His Immortal | Marcus Pike

27

"There is someone else who is a part of it, who sent the twins to kill Marcus," I told them.

The agents exchanged surprised glances, not expecting to hear this information. "Who?" One of them asked, his tone urgent.

"Daisy Cooper,".

The agents' eyes widened in shock, clearly recognizing the name. "Daisy Cooper? Are you sure about this?" One of them asked as I showed them the texts.

The agents looked over the texts on my phone, their expressions turning from shock to disbelief. "This is huge," one of them muttered, looking up from the phone. "If this is true, it could change everything we thought we knew about this case."

"I know she was there at the station to warn Marcus but she texted me saying 'Game on' I knew what she was going to do and I tried to tell Marcus but he was shot," I cried.

The agents could see the guilt and fear etched across my face, and they could sense the weight of the situation. "You tried to warn him," one of them reassured me, reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder, "And you still gave us this information. You did everything you could."

"I don't want him to die," I kept crying. "He's shown me love that no one has ever given me," I told them.

The agents could hear the pain and longing in my voice, and their expressions softened. "He's a fighter," the agent who had his hand on my shoulder said, his tone firm. "He's not going to give up that easily. He'll pull through."

I heard the sound of Daisy's voice outside and the remaining agents followed, my heart racing with confusion and anxiety. As I stepped out, I saw Daisy standing there, her hands up in a gesture of surrender.

The agents surrounding her exchanged looks of surprise and disbelief. This was the last thing they had expected. One of them took a step forward. "Daisy Cooper, you're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder," he said, his voice hard and cold.

Daisy simply nodded, her expression stoic as if she had expected this outcome. The agents quickly handcuffed her and started to lead her away. I watched as she walked past me, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment.

She looked at me and there was something unreadable in her expression. Was it regret? Pride? Or perhaps a mix of both? For a moment, me and Daisy locked eyes, and then she was led away.

As I entered Marcus's room, I was immediately struck by the stillness of the room. Marcus lay motionless in the bed, his face pale and his body hooked up to various monitors and machines. The only sound was the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor, the only sign that he was still alive.

I moved to his bedside, tears streaming down my face as I looked at him. He seemed so small and vulnerable, lying there tethered to all the machines, his strong frame reduced to almost nothing by the wounds he'd sustained.

As I took his hand in mine, I felt the warmth of his skin and the faint pulse of his heartbeat through his wrist. His hand seemed so much larger than mine and yet it felt strangely fragile in my grip.

"I am so sorry," I said as I sobbed.

There was no response from Marcus, of course. He was still deep in the grips of unconsciousness, his body focused on the fight for survival. But even though he couldn't respond, I felt the need to say the words aloud, to express the pain and guilt coursing through me.

I clutched his hand tightly, willing him to open his eyes, to say something, anything to let me know he was going to be okay. But all I could hear was the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor, the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

I had finally fallen asleep, my head resting on the edge of the bed, my body slumped over in the chair. I had stayed vigil at Marcus's bedside all night, unwilling to leave him even for a moment.

As I slept, the room remained dimly lit, the only sound was the soft beeping of the heart rate monitor and the steady breathing of the medical equipment. It was still early in the morning, and daylight was only just starting to filter through the curtains, casting a pale, soft light over the room.

I slept deeply, my exhaustion finally catching up with me after the long and harrowing night. But even in my sleep, I still held onto Marcus's hand, my grip on him firm and protective.

Suddenly, I was startled awake by a low moan coming from the bed. My eyes flew open, and I looked up to see Marcus's eyes beginning to flutter open, his gaze unfocused and disoriented. He groggily looked around the room, his eyes landing on me. It took a moment for the fog of unconsciousness to clear, but slowly, recognition began to dawn on his expression.

"Elaine?" he croaked, his voice hoarse and weak. He tried to sit up a little, but the pain in his shoulder made him wince and fall back against the pillows.

"No, stay down," I said quietly. I adjusted his pillows. Marcus grunted in pain, but obediently stayed still, letting me adjust the pillows to make him more comfortable. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking deep, shaky breaths as the pain slowly began to subside.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes again, looking at me with a mixture of surprise and relief. "You're here," he said gruffly, his voice still weak and raspy.

"Been here since you got here," I said as I looked into his eyes.

Marcus seemed to relax a little at my words, his eyes studying my face. He could see the weariness and worry etched on my face, the bags under my eyes. "You look exhausted," he said, his tone laced with concern.

"Don't worry about me, I am more worried about you," I said as I tried to not let my emotions show. Despite the pain he was in, a small, wry smile tugged at the corners of Marcus's mouth. "You're always so worried about me," he said gruffly, his voice still hoarse and weak.