Marcus was still trembling.
Not visibly, his hands were steady now, his breathing controlled, but internally, everything shook. Like his bones had turned to water and only willpower kept him upright.
If Matt hadn't pushed him away at that moment, he'd have been the one on that warehouse floor. The bullet would have torn through his chest instead, his blood would have pooled on concrete, Ryan would have knelt beside his body instead of Matt's.
Matt had protected him.
A man Marcus barely knew, a man who'd broken Ryan as a child, who'd shaped him into a weapon, who'd been complicit in so much violence. That man had seen the bullet coming and made a choice in a split second, his life for Marcus's.
And now Matt was dead.
They'd been back at the mansion for over an hour, the sun had fully risen, painting the windows with golden light that felt obscene given what had just happened. The world shouldn't be bright and warm when someone had just died.
