Page 61 of Marked to Be Mine (Erased #1)

Maeve

“Step away from him.” The words tore from my throat, raw and unfamiliar.

That was the last warning I’d give to him. The thought of killing a man made me sick, but that nausea was absent now that I stared at Brock. My arms stretched forward, barrel aimed at his chest, but my fingers trembled against the trigger.

He had answers to so many questions—the only reason why I couldn’t kill him right there and then. Xavier’s fate depended on it.

Behind Brock, Ronan knelt with his head bowed, face contorted in silent agony, veins standing out like ropes beneath his skin.

Oh, no. Brock had undoubtedly done something to him—triggered some mechanism, worse than ever before.

Ronan had fought so desperately to free himself from Oblivion, only to be chained back up again.

Unacceptable.

Seconds earlier, I’d been trapped in the security hub, helplessly watching monitors as Ronan collapsed. Through his earpiece, Brock’s voice carried cold and clear. He promised Ronan he’d take his time with me. He’d bring me to an end, just like he did with Sofia.

Something fractured inside me. I snatched the guard’s weapon from his holster and ran, fluorescent lights blurring overhead as I navigated sterile hallways by instinct alone.

Now I was here, facing a monster in his lair, with nothing but unstable hands and desperate courage.

Brock straightened his expensive suit jacket, brushing away nonexistent dust. “Ms. Durham. Put that down before you hurt yourself.” His tone was casual, almost bored, as if I’d interrupted a tedious meeting.

My eyes darted to Ronan. His gaze found mine—unfocused but desperate. He tried to speak, lips forming a single word I recognized immediately: run .

I set my jaw. Not happening.

I couldn’t. Not right now.

Brock moved around his desk with unhurried confidence, ignoring my weapon entirely. The massive windows behind him framed the S?o Paulo skyline, casting his shadow long across the floor.

“I’m impressed you made it this far.” He adjusted a cufflink, the gold catching light. “Though you’ve complicated matters unnecessarily.”

My heart hammered against my ribs so violently that I could barely hear him. The gun weighed heavier with each passing second, my muscles burning from the strain of keeping it leveled.

“Stay back,” I warned, trying to inject steel into my voice .

Brock’s mouth curled into a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Or what?” He took another step. “You’ll shoot me?”

I readjusted my sweaty grip, the weapon wavering. Behind Brock, Ronan struggled visibly, tendons standing out in his neck as he fought whatever invisible torture Brock had unleashed.

“I said, stay back!” The words cracked between us.

Brock continued moving toward me, each step measured and deliberate.

“Journalists,” he said with disdain. “Always believing words are enough. That exposing the truth matters.” He gestured toward the scattered glass on the floor from whatever confrontation had happened before I arrived.

“Truth is whatever the powerful decide it is.”

“You son of a...”

“You have no idea what you’ve stumbled into,” Brock interrupted me. “What forces you’re toying with.”

I drew a steadying breath, forcing my racing thoughts to slow. I thought of Xavier, of what they did to him. Of Ronan, fighting his programming with everything he had. Of all the lives destroyed by this man and his organization.

“I know enough,” I managed. “I’ll bring you down, along with this entire goddamn organization.”

Brock stopped, barely an arm’s length away now. The barrel of my gun almost touched his pristine shirt front. His eyes—cold, calculating, entirely unafraid—studied me like a specimen under glass. He didn’t seem to take my threat too seriously .

“Do you know how to use that thing?” Brock whispered his question like a secret, gaze flicking to the tremor in my hands.

“Point and pull the trigger,” I said, swallowing hard. “Seems straightforward enough.”

Behind Brock, Ronan’s fingers clawed against the floor, each ragged breath he took twisting something primal inside my chest.

Brock followed my gaze and smiled. “Fascinating, isn’t it? To see such a powerful man rendered helpless.”

I needed to keep him talking. Give Ronan time to fight through whatever Brock had done to him.

“What did you do to him?” I asked, muscles screaming from the strain of holding the gun steady.

Brock turned toward Ronan, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He moved with the confidence of a man who believed he’d already won.

“You’re looking at the culmination of decades of research.” Pride colored his voice. “The human mind is just electrical impulses. Change the pathways, change the person.”

Ronan’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. His eyes met mine for a fraction of a second—clouded with pain but still aware. Still fighting.

I gave him the smallest nod, hoping he understood. I’m here. I haven’t abandoned you.

“The trigger words are like strings on a puppet. One pull and he dances.” He mimed pulling something from above.

“Simple, elegant control. The Director wanted implants, tech solutions… but I demonstrated that words alone could create th e perfect failsafe. Our little Reaper here was my proof of concept.”

My stomach turned. “You’re sick.”

“I’m revolutionary.” Brock tapped his chin, thinking. “Your brother’s neural maps, for comparison.”

Xavier’s name on his lips ignited rage in my chest. “Stop!”

“Xavier was so much easier. Perfect soldier material.” Brock’s voice carried genuine appreciation. “He no longer remembers you ever existed. What a shame.”

“You’re lying,” I said, though doubt crept in. The emptiness in his eyes when he had slapped me proved Brock’s point… but that couldn’t be the end of a man my brother once was. I refused to accept that as a possibility.

“Am I?” Brock stepped closer, challenging.

“Your brother belongs to Oblivion now. And your… whatever he is to you”, he gestured dismissively at Ronan, “will be mine again after I purge this unfortunate episode from his programming. You’ve already lost them both. You fought and survived for nothing.”

I watched Ronan’s body contort, fighting against invisible restraints that seemed to be crushing him from the inside. The veins in his neck pulsed blue against flushed skin.

“You know what’s truly remarkable?” Brock continued, turning to face the monitors. “How much pain the human brain can endure before it breaks. Reaper here lasted longer than most. Almost a shame to reset such resilience.”

I caught Ronan’s gaze and held it, trying to pour strength into him through sheer will. This time, Brock noticed the connection between us .

“Oh, you think he can see or hear you?” His smile widened, revealing too many teeth. “He’s trapped in a neural pain loop right now, Ms. Durham. Every synapse fires pain signals. He can’t even form coherent thoughts.”

I maintained eye contact with Ronan unwaveringly. His eyes cleared for just a moment, and recognition flashed through the haze of agony.

“I’ve been patient enough,” Brock said, checking his watch. “Time to end this little standoff.”

He reached steps toward Ronan and I reacted.

“One more move and I shoot,” I warned.

Brock paused, tilting his head. “You won’t. You can’t. You’re not a killer. You’re shaking so badly you’d probably miss me entirely.”

He greatly underestimated me in that department. This world would be a much better place without his presence, though I couldn’t end his life just yet.

“Where exactly is my brother?” I asked, voice steadier than I felt. “What have you done to Xavier?”

Brock’s smile stretched thin. “There’s nothing left of Xavier Hale anymore.

We unmade him, piece by piece. Subject designation Blackout is currently on assignment.

Very promising operative.” He stepped closer, disregarding the gun entirely.

“The Quinta generation has remarkable compliance metrics. Unlike our Prima subjects with their… design flaws.” He gestured toward Ronan with contempt.

Horror washed through me in a cold wave. The gun lowered fractionally as nausea rose in my throat .

Brock seized the opportunity, closing the distance between us. “I know you find it difficult to believe this, but we’re visionaries. Humanity evolved through natural selection. We simply accelerate the process.”

His proximity sent fresh adrenaline spiking through me. I raised the gun again, but doubt had already clouded my resolve.

“You know what truly distinguishes Reaper from the other failures?” Brock asked, suddenly conversational. A strand of hair fell across his forehead, the first imperfection in his polished appearance. “His resistance capacity. Most subjects break completely within days. Ronan lasted weeks.”

Pride crept into Brock’s voice, followed by something darker—resentment.

I glanced at Ronan again, noticing how he seemed to struggle harder, more desperately, whenever our eyes met. An idea formed—desperate, possibly suicidal, but the only option I had.

“I know you can hear me,” I said directly to Ronan, ignoring Brock entirely. “I know you’re still fighting.”

Brock’s laugh cut through the air. “How touching. And utterly pointless.” He turned back to me, eyes gleaming with cruelty. “Shall I demonstrate?”

“Don’t,” I warned, raising the gun higher.

“Anchor,” Brock said, eyes fixed on me rather than Ronan.

Ronan’s body convulsed violently, a choked sound escaping his throat as his spine arched at an unnatural angle.

“Stop it!” I shouted .

“Vessel,” Brock continued, satisfaction spreading across his face as Ronan’s hands clawed at his temples.

“Please, stop!” My finger trembled against the trigger, one ounce of pressure from firing.

Brock’s eyes locked with mine, challenging. “Mari...”

“ No !” I screamed, cutting him off before he could complete the sequence. At that moment, I made my choice. I lowered the gun.