The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, trying to steady my racing thoughts. The room was beautiful—opulent, even—but it felt like a prison. The heavy tapestries on the walls seemed to close in around me, and the silence was suffocating.

I didn't know how long I had been sitting there, lost in my thoughts, when a soft knock at the door startled me. I froze, my heart pounding. Who could it be? Jane? Aro? Someone else entirely?

The knock came again, gentle but insistent. I stood, my legs trembling, and crossed the room to the door. I hesitated for a moment, then opened it.

Marcus stood on the other side.

He was taller than I remembered, his pale features softened by the warm glow of the torchlight in the hall. His red eyes, usually so distant and unreadable, seemed to hold a quiet intensity as they met mine. He was dressed simply, in a dark tunic and trousers, but there was an elegance to him that made him seem almost regal. On his chest, he bore the necklace of the Volturi, just as everyone else in these dark castle walls, an immaculate pendant that seemed to shimmer with every movement.

"Bella," he said, his voice soft and melodic. "May I come in?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his politeness. After everything that had happened, after the coldness of Aro and Caius, his kindness felt… strange. Unsettling, even.

"I… yes," I said, stepping aside to let him in. "Of course."

He entered the room, his movements graceful and unhurried, and glanced around, taking in the space. "I trust Jane has seen to your needs?" he asked, his tone courteous.

I nodded, though the question felt absurd. My needs? I was a prisoner here, no matter how luxurious my cage. "Yes," I said quietly. "She has."

Marcus turned to me, his gaze steady but not unkind. "Good," he said. "I wanted to ensure you were comfortable. This must be… difficult for you."

I didn't know how to respond. Difficult didn't even begin to cover it. I was trapped in a castle full of vampires, at the mercy of creatures who saw me as nothing more than a curiosity. And yet, Marcus's presence was oddly calming, his demeanor so different from the others.

"Thank you," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "For… for speaking up for me. In the throne room."

Marcus inclined his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. "It was the right thing to do," he said. "You are… unique, Bella. And I believe your presence here is significant."

His words sent a shiver down my spine. Unique. Significant. Jane had said the same thing, but coming from Marcus, it felt different. Weightier. More personal.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, my voice trembling. "What did you see? When you… when you touched Aro's hand?"

Marcus hesitated, his gaze flickering to the fire before returning to me. "I saw many things," he said, his tone measured. He cut himself short, seeming as though there was more he wanted to say, but he instead let the words settle in between us.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. What did that mean? What had he seen? And why did it feel like he was holding something back?

Marcus took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid of startling me. "I would like to know more about you," he said, his voice soft. "If you're willing to share."

I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. He was one of them, after all—a member of the Volturi, a creature who could end my life with a single motion. And yet, there was something about him that made me want to trust him. Something in his eyes, in his voice, that felt… genuine.

But I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't risk exposing the Cullens, or Edward, or the life I had once had. So I did the only thing I could do—I lied.

"I… I met a vampire once," I said, my voice trembling. "A long time ago. He didn't tell me what he was at first. He just… he seemed different. Mysterious. I didn't understand what he was, not until it was too late."

Marcus's expression remained calm, but I thought I saw a flicker of interest in his eyes. "Go on," he said softly.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to continue. "He told me about your world," I said, my mind racing as I tried to put together a coherent enough lie for the ancient vampire in front of me. "About vampires. He said he was tired of hiding, tired of living in the shadows. He wanted to show me everything. But then… then he disappeared. I didn't know what happened to him until later. I found out that the Volturi had killed him. For exposing your secret."

The words tasted bitter on my tongue. It was a lie, a fabrication, but it was the only story I could give him. The only story that wouldn't put the Cullens in danger.

Marcus studied me, his golden eyes searching mine. For a moment, I was afraid he could see through my lie, that he could sense the guilt twisting in my chest. But then he nodded, his expression softening.

"That must have been difficult for you," he said quietly. "To lose someone you cared about, to be thrust into a world you didn't understand."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. The guilt I had been trying to suppress surged to the surface, and before I could stop it, tears welled up in my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but it was no use. They spilled over, streaming down my cheeks. The Cullen family... My father... Jake, who was out there, probably scared beyond belief about my disappearance at this point.

"I didn't want any of this," I choked out, my voice breaking. "I just wanted to live a normal life. To be with my dad. And now… now he's gone. Because of me."

The weight of my grief crashed over me, and I sank to my knees, sobbing. I hadn't allowed myself to cry like this since Charlie's death. I had been too numb, too focused on survival. But now, in the presence of this strange, kind vampire, the dam had broken.

For a moment, Marcus stood still, his expression unreadable. And then, to my surprise, he stepped forward and knelt beside me. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were afraid of startling me. He reached out, his cold fingers brushing against my cheek, wiping away my tears.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice filled with a sorrow that mirrored my own. "I know what it's like to lose someone you love. To carry that pain with you, every day, for centuries."

His words surprised me. I looked up at him, my vision blurred by tears, and saw something in his eyes—something raw and vulnerable. He wasn't just speaking as a member of the Volturi. He was speaking as someone who had known loss, who had carried it with him for longer than I could ever imagine given my lifespan.

Without thinking, I leaned into him, my body trembling with sobs. And to my surprise, he didn't pull away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, holding me gently but firmly. His embrace was cold, but it was comforting in a way I couldn't explain.

For a long moment, we stayed like that, the fire crackling softly in the background. And for the first time since Charlie's death, I felt… safe. Not because I trusted the Volturi, or because I believed Marcus could protect me. But because, in that moment, I didn't feel alone.

When my tears finally subsided, Marcus pulled back slightly, his ruby eyes searching mine. "You're not alone, Bella," he said softly.

His words sent a shiver down my spine. I didn't fully know what they meant, or what they would mean for me in the days to come. But for now, I clung to them, to the strange, fragile connection I felt with this ancient, sorrowful vampire.

Then, what was happening actually hit me again. I blinked as I looked up at Marcus, as embarrassment crept up into my cheeks- here I was, crying in the presence of what essentially was the Royal family of this world, of Edward and Carlisle's world. "I am so sorry about this."

Marcus regarded me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, the corners of his lips tilted just slightly—not quite a smile, but something close. "There is nothing to apologize for," he said, his voice as calm and steady as ever. "Grief is not weakness."

I looked away, my cheeks burning. "I just—this isn't—I don't usually—" I exhaled sharply, frustrated at my own inability to form a coherent sentence. "It's just been… a lot."

Marcus inclined his head as if he understood, and somehow, I thought he did. Maybe better than anyone.

A silence stretched between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The fire crackled, its warmth pressing against my skin even as Marcus' cool presence countered it. I wiped at my face with the sleeve of the luxurious gown Jane had insisted I wear, suddenly aware of how out of place I must have looked—disheveled, tear-streaked, human.

I forced myself to meet his gaze again. "You don't… you don't have to stay," I said, though I wasn't sure if I really meant it.

Marcus studied me for a long moment before he finally spoke. "No, I don't."

Something about the way he said it made my breath catch. It wasn't just an agreement—it was an acknowledgment. He was here because he chose to be.

He stood then, his movements fluid as water, and I felt the loss of his presence almost immediately. But he didn't leave—not yet. "Rest, Bella," he said. "You are safe here."

Safe. The word felt foreign, like something that belonged to another lifetime. But as Marcus turned to leave, I realized something strange.

For the first time since stepping into this castle, since boarding the plane to Italy, since Charlie's death—I almost believed him.

And somehow, that terrified me.