Page 63 of Marked to Be Mine (Erased #1)
With difficulty, Ronan stood and retrieved my gun from where it had fallen. He checked the chamber, then turned to face Brock.
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second—former partners with a lifetime of history between them. In that look, I saw everything: betrayal, rage, a twisted bond broken beyond repair.
Then Ronan fired without hesitation.
I flinched at the explosion, turning my head away as Brock’s body slumped against the desk. The execution was quick, emotionless, and necessary. This time, the shot aimed for the head, silencing Brock for good.
Ronan immediately moved to Brock’s desk, checking the security monitors. The screens showed corridors littered with bodies—evidence of Specter’s bloody path through the compound. Uniformed guards sprawled at unnatural angles, some still clutching their weapons.
On one screen, I spotted a familiar figure limping down a corridor toward us, clutching his side. It was Specter, his face tight with pain but still moving with predatory grace even while injured. His shirt was dark with blood, but he was alive and making his way to us.
“Specter made it.” I breathed, relief washing through me.
Ronan nodded, eyes scanning the other monitors. “We need to move. Now. ”
He extended his hand to me. Despite everything—what Brock put him through in the last hour, the blood, the deaths, the alarms screaming around us—his touch when our fingers intertwined felt like an anchor in a storm.
The connection was practical and deeply emotional, a lifeline I clung to as we slipped out of Brock’s office.
The hallway thrummed with the pulse of emergency lights. Each flashing crimson wave revealed more carnage. I focused on Ronan’s back rather than the bodies we stepped around.
We found Specter at an intersection of corridors. His face was a mask of blood and bruises, one arm hanging awkwardly at his side. He leaned heavily against the wall, breath coming in short, pained gasps.
“Took you long enough,” he said, grimacing through what must have been excruciating pain.
“My God, Specter.” I reached toward the dark stain spreading across his shirt. “How bad is it?”
“Nothing serious,” he grunted, though the way he clutched his side told a different story. “Just a flesh wound.”
“We need to move. Now.” Ronan’s voice was tight with urgency. “The alarm will alert the authorities.”
Specter tried to push himself off the wall but stumbled. Ronan caught him before he fell, supporting his weight.
“I won’t be able to run like this,” Specter admitted through gritted teeth. “And police response will be here in minutes.”
“Then we’ll carry you,” I insisted. “Ronan can...”
“No.” Specter shook his head firmly. “You two need to go. Now.”
“We’re not leaving you,” I argued, panic rising in my throat.
The sirens grew louder, pressing down on us from all directions.
He had risked everything for us; there was no way we’d just…
leave him behind. All three of us had to make it out.
It was the only option that made sense—the only option I’d accept.
“I’ll destroy as much of this place as possible,” Specter said. “Hide the evidence of Oblivion. Buy you both time.”
My heart froze. “No! I need everything here to find Xavier. All the files, all the evidence...”
“Maeve.” Specter’s voice cut through my panic. “Involving police in Oblivion would only turn against us. They have people everywhere. The evidence would disappear before it reached any courtroom.”
“Then what’s the point of all this?” My voice broke. The weight of what we’d done—what I’d done—threatened to crush me. “How do I find my brother?”
“By getting the truth out there. Your way.” Specter’s eyes were hard but sincere. “Diffuse the information. Alert everyone. Make it too big to hide.”
“That would put her in immense danger,” Ronan said, his hand tightening around mine.
“Yes.” Specter’s gaze shifted to Ronan. “That’s where you come in. You protect her. Keep her alive while she does what she does best.”
The building trembled slightly beneath our feet.
From somewhere far below came the sound of breaking glass and shouting.
Time was running out. Yet, in this corner, time stood still as the three of us observed each other.
I couldn’t even fathom the thought of leaving him behind. This couldn’t be how things ended.
“What about you?” I asked Specter, not ready to lose another ally, another friend.
He smiled—a bloody, broken thing that somehow conveyed genuine warmth. “I’m tough to kill. And I still have my own answers to find.” I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. What was there to say, after all?
“Go back the way you two came,” he continued, pressing a small device into Ronan’s hand. “The police will come up the front first. This will give you time.”
Distant sirens filtered through the building’s walls. Minutes, maybe seconds left.
Ronan nodded at Specter, a silent exchange between two soldiers who understood sacrifice.
“When this is over...” I started, but Specter cut me off.
“When this is over, the world will know what Oblivion has done. And you two will have made that happen.”
“The three of us,” I corrected him as I reached out, my fingers touching his hand briefly. “Thank you,” I whispered, meaning it more than I could express. “For everything.”
“Time to go.” Ronan’s voice was steady as he pulled me away. My legs moved automatically, following him while my heart pulled me back toward Specter.
“Get her somewhere safe,” Specter called after Ronan. “Keep her alive!”
The last glimpse I caught of him was through tears—a dark figure standing straight despite his wounds, facing whatever came next with unflinching resolve .
Ronan pulled me through the corridor, his grip on my hand firm, unyielding. Behind us, Specter became another ghost in our growing collection of losses and sacrifices. But ahead of us lay something else—a chance at truth, justice, and maybe even love.