Ruth’s POV
From the moment we sat down, I felt the imbalance. Like every smile Marcus gave was meant to distract from something waiting just beneath his skin.
He plated the food with practiced ease, carving bites as if hosting were second nature, and his questions came dressed in politeness, but they dug too deep. “How long do you sit with the grief before you paint it?” he asked early on, and though his voice sounded kind, the phrasing stuck in my ribs like a blade.
I answered because I had to, because silence would’ve drawn more attention. But every time I spoke, I felt Emmett’s eyes on me. Not Marcus’s, Emmett’s. He barely touched his food. Barely moved, he didn’t interrupt or correct Marcus, but something about his stillness made the entire room feel unstable. Like he was waiting for something, too. Then Marcus asked him to get firewood.
“Out back,” he said casually, gesturing with his chin. “It’s supposed to drop ten degrees tonight.”
Emmett didn’t answer right away. He looked at me, just a moment, but it was enough. There was hesitation in it. A flicker of something restrained. I gave him a small nod, forcing calm into my voice. “I’ll be fine.”
Still, he lingered, eyes searching mine for a reason to stay. I didn’t give it. After a beat, he turned and stepped outside. The door shut behind him, and everything changed. The warmth of the house held, but the tension crept in immediately.
Marcus moved toward the fireplace with a piece of split wood, placing it carefully, methodically. I stayed frozen in my chair, watching him as he crouched near the flames. His posture was relaxed, but the way he poked at the fire felt… performative. He didn’t speak for a long moment, until the crackling drowned out everything else. Then, casually, he said, “You know, Emmett doesn’t talk about his sister much.” I didn’t answer. My pulse began to thrum harder in my ears.
“She was young,” he continued, voice low but steady. “Clever. Loud. Cried a lot.” My fingers clenched around the warm mug of tea I hadn’t touched since it was handed to me.
“Too loud, sometimes. And like most little girls with secrets, she couldn’t be trusted.” I blinked, slowly. Not sure I’d heard him right, not wanting to.
“She begged,” Marcus went on, poking at the fire again. “Sobbed, really. But I don’t remember what she said. Just how the sound of her voice stopped being interesting once she realized no one was coming to help her.” The mug slipped from my hand. It shattered on the floor beside my foot, ceramic and liquid spreading in every direction. Marcus didn’t flinch.
He straightened, wiping his hands calmly on a towel. “You matter to him,” he said, stepping toward me with measured slowness. “And that’s going to be a problem eventually. He’ll try to protect you. Probably already thinks he has.”
My mouth was dry. My legs locked in place. “You’re lying,” I whispered.
He smiled like I’d amused him. “But you don’t really believe that.” I couldn’t. Not after what I’d just heard. Not with the way he looked at me, completely composed, completely in control. There wasn’t a flicker of guilt anywhere in his eyes.
“I see it in you,” he added, tone softening just enough to unnerve me further. “That same twitch of fear. That quiet little silence girls carry when they’ve seen something they weren’t supposed to survive.”
I stepped back. Once, twice, my heel caught the edge of the rug. Marcus didn’t follow, but he didn’t stop speaking either. “Your brother- he had your eyes, didn’t he? Same sharp stare. Same way of watching the room.”
The air in my lungs turned to glass. My heart lurched so hard I thought I might collapse where I stood. That detail, it was too exact. My brother drowned when we were kids, but before that, before the water swallowed him and left me alone, we were taken, held. I hadn’t remembered much, just flashes. Fingers on my wrist, whispered commands, a silver tooth. My stomach heaved.
The door opened behind us, and Emmett stepped in, arms full of wood. He froze when he saw me, my face, the broken mug, the wet floor, Marcus too close. Something in him sharpened instantly.
“What happened?” he asked, voice flat but dangerous.
Marcus didn’t even turn around. “Told her a story. Think I scared her.” I said nothing. My voice was gone. My body felt like a shell.
Emmett’s eyes flicked from Marcus to me. “Ruth?”
I couldn’t speak, I didn’t shake my head. I didn’t nod. I just stood there, the silence screaming everything I couldn’t. He saw it. He didn’t understand it yet, but he saw it.
And the shift in his face said that whatever came next, he knew something had just snapped. Something that wouldn’t go back the way it was.