Page 123 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

The room shifted.

The immediate crisis, the focused panic around Con’s injuries, began to thin. In its place came another kind of pressure.

Old secrets. Old lies.

I backed away from the bed, giving Con more room to breathe, and found a spot by the wall where I could watch both the bed and the corner where Marcus stood.

He had removed his jacket at some point. His shirt was stained at the hem, his tie loosened, his eyes ringed by smudges of fatigue and stress. He looked less like the unflappable broker now and more like a man who had just realized his double life finally collided.

Isra took a step forward.

“You made deals in that room,” he said. “You smiled at criminals. You brokered sales of cursed objects and weapons that should never have left their graves.”

Marcus’ jaw tightened. “I never handled anything truly apocalyptic.”

“That formula is apocalyptic,” Isra said, voice rising. “And you stood in the middle of it and never told me.”

The last words hit like thrown glass.

Marcus’ face pinched, pain flashing behind his composure. “I never told you because I did not want you near any of it.”

Isra laughed, short and bitter. “You run an international black-market brokerage for supernatural artifacts behind my back, and your defense is that you did it out of love?”

“Yes,” Marcus said.

The word hung in the air between them.

Raven looked away, giving them a measure of privacy they did not truly have. Con watched from the bed, eyes half open, silent but attentive.

I stayed where I was.

Marcus took a slow breath. “Before I met you, Isra, I dealt in rare and dangerous things. That was my world. Money, influence, items people killed for. When we started seeing each other, I tried to step back. I did. I cut ties with the worst suppliers, stopped handling anything connected to known wars. I refused contracts that targeted specific clans.”

Isra’s mouth twisted. “How noble.”

Marcus winced. “It was not enough. I know that. But it was what I could manage without painting a target on both of us.”

“You could have told me,” Isra said. “You could have said, ‘By the way, dear, I am a criminal.’ You could have given me the respect of a choice.”

“I know,” Marcus said quietly. “I was a coward.”

Isra’s eyes shone for a moment, the first hint of tears threatening to break free. He blinked them back with force. “You lied to my face. You sat in my club, drank my cocktails, met my daughter, and never once mentioned that you were part of the network trying to kill Rene.”

Marcus flinched.

“I did not know the full extent,” he said. “I knew there was an enhancement protocol on the list. I did not know Valerian’s involvement. I did not know how directly it tied to Rene until Cass and Constantine explained the truth.”

“And still you never told me,” Isra whispered.

“I should have,” Marcus said. “I see that now.”

There was no defense in his tone. Only regret.

Raven stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on Isra’s arm. “He should have,” she said. “You are right to be angry.”

He looked at her, expression raw. “Then why are you not throwing him out?”

“Because if it were not for him, we would not have that case,” she said. “And Rene would have one less chance.”