When The Puppet Falls For The Puppeteer

Bruises and Promises

For a beat, the room went still. Charles's eyes narrowed, but he didn't waste his breath on Dan. His focus snapped back to Marcus.

"You're making a mistake. Don't throw your future away over something—over someone—that won't matter five years from now. The position of Mayor is everything. Do not let it slip through your fingers for what is not important." His last words hung heavy in the air, cutting at me like a knife.

The house was too quiet. Marcus barely touched his plate, brooding, his silence louder than Charles's shouting earlier. I kept my head down, serving the table quietly.

Lillie broke the silence, chirping about her school project, her hands flapping as she described the papier-mâché solar system she was making. Her laugh was bright, unbothered, a little sunbeam breaking into the gloom.

I couldn't help it—I smiled. Even let out a small laugh when she teased that her Saturn's rings kept collapsing. For a fleeting moment, it felt normal.

The sound snapped Marcus's head up. His glare cut through me. "Enough." His voice was sharp.

Lillie faltered, but tried again, softly, "But—"

"I said enough!" His hand hit the table. She flinched, eyes wide. Tears welled up too soon in her eyes, he never scolds her.

"Lillie," I said quickly, forcing calm into my tone. "Go to your room, sweetheart." I don't want her to become victim of his anger. My chest ached as I watched her scurry off, eyes wet, shoulders hunched.

Dan's chair scraped back. "Come on, kiddo," he said gently, following her. "Let's go play basketball, yeah? Let him be Mr. Grumpy." He threw Marcus a dark look before leading her out.

The door shut. Silence.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, almost choking on the words as I reached to clear his plate.

The chair legs screeched against the floor. Marcus stood in a snap, and before I could, his hand clamped around my wrist, dragging me up to face him.

"Sorry?" His voice was a snarl, low but lethal. His grip tightened, making me gasp. "You think that word fixes anything?"

"I wasn't trying to upset you," I stammered, tugging gently against his hold.

His eyes burned into mine, so close I could see the veins flickering in his temples. "Do you have any idea what's at stake right now? Every single eye watching me, waiting for me to falter—and you laugh, you chatter like it's all some game."

"I didn't mean—"

"You never mean it." His face was inches from mine now, his voice harsh and ragged. "But your timing—your presence—it cuts right into everything I've built. One slip. That's all it takes."

"Marcus, please," I whispered, my heart hammering. His fingers dug harder, and I flinched.

He stared at me then, unblinking, his chest rising fast against mine. He looked like he wanted to spit the words out, but he didn't. He just breathed them into the space between us, heavy and sharp. "You don't understand what I need. What has to be mine."

I swallowed, throat dry. He wasn't saying it outright, but I felt it press against me all the same—the truth buried inside his anger. What he needed wasn't me. It was Riverbridge. The title. The crown.

Maybe I was only in the way.

He finally released my wrist, the absence of his touch leaving behind angry red marks. He dragged a hand through his hair and turned from me, pacing, shoulders taut.

I stood frozen, my body shaking, disappointment clawing its way deeper than the fear. Because no matter how fiercely Marcus held me, no matter how many times he said I was his... in this moment, I saw it—his hunger was bigger than me.