Chapter 139 - The Cost Of Freedom

"You're supposed to be the best, aren't you, son?"

Marcellus tried to keep himself from gritting his teeth, though keeping his emotionless expression had been particularly difficult these days.

They had stationed a guard to shadow him at every moment, the aim of his gun just a brush away from the nape of his neck. He had been caught trying to escape. However, he was deemed irreplaceable, and so he had only been punished and detained despite his act of betrayal.

"I am the best," Marcellus answered monotonously - there was no pride in it.

He had to be the best to survive, after all, and surviving was the key to seeing his grandparents and uncle again. Rather than an achievement, succeeding in all he did was an expectation of him. That was how his parents raised him.

"So, why did you try to escape?" his father inquired.

His voice vibrated in that sinister way he does so well, but that was not the reason why he was afraid of him. He knew that he could do more than reprimand him, after all. 

When he didn't answer, his father gestured at the guard, and he heard the click of the gun.

"It's not so much your desire that disappoints me..." his father continued. 

"But rather your spectacular failure of an attempt. Tell me, son. What would you have done once you were outside the perimeter of the facility? Just where would you have gone? Who would have helped you out there?"

Marcellus didn't say a thing. 

His father wouldn't know, of course, or otherwise, he's just pretending to not know. Both of them were aware that his uncle was pulling the strings behind the scenes. Soon enough, he'd come there and save him.

"You were careless, son. And for that, I am gravely disappointed."

He steeled himself. This would be as far as his silence could go. 

"Then, kill me..." Marcellus dared to mutter.

"If I am truly a failure, then kill me."

"Oh no, you are simply too good for that. I won't kill you. Instead, you will finish your work here and then you will be promoted."

His heart sinks.

Promotion is nothing good around these parts. Considering what work promotion entailed, he was not sure if he could handle it - if he could even stomach it. 

"My work here will never be done," he said in a desperate attempt at salvaging whatever was left of his heart.

The system had stripped Marcellus of everything that he was - had molded him into a caricature of himself that he could barely stand and comprehend.

They took everything that was important to him. First was his freedom and a normal life, and then his few remaining loved ones. Now, they were all gone, and he was left trying to survive by the skin of his teeth.

"You're right, son..." his father went on to say. 

"Your work will never be done if you continue to fill your mind with notions of escaping."

"That's not what I meant..." he gritted, fighting the urge to clench his fists.

"What you're asking me to do is impossible! Isn't what you have already enough?!"

At that, his old man laughed. It was a bone-chilling, harrowing sort of laugh that grated on his ears and carved a hole into his heart.

"Oh, son, nothing is ever enough for the mafia."

---

"You should be resting more, Sir Lexington."

Winter is still taking care of him. Though Marcellus is grateful, he doesn't feel like staying there anymore, especially after confessing his past. 

She said she understood - and that nothing would change between them, but for some reason, he was not reassured enough. 

"I know..." he replied, showing her a small smile.

"But I'm alright now."

Winter sighs when Marcellus turns his back to her.

She can almost hear the gears turning in his head. His thoughts are louder yet quieter than they have ever been. She feels a sort of worry course through her, though his fever has subsided and he is obviously feeling much better than before.

At the beginning of this whole ordeal, she had seen a side of him that he'd always done his best to hide from her. She'd seen his scars – the inner ones, but she'd only gotten a glimpse. She had no clue as to what experiences and burdens lay beneath those marks of suffering, and as she had come to realize, he had no intentions whatsoever of making those clear to her.

Marcellus had allowed her to see, but that was it, and Winter could go no further.

Once he'd been able enough, he'd brought up that wall again. He acts as he always has instead of just letting himself be himself, and he still doesn't want to talk to her about many things – still doesn't want to share with her the part of him that makes him human.

"He's untouchable because he's basically a god," was what Anne had once said.

At the time, Winter had found a part of herself agreeing with those words - Marcellus is untouchable even long before.

But what she has failed to see then, she understands clearly now. Him being untouchable is his doing. He's seen as a god by everyone else because that's what he wants them to see. It's what he wants her to see.

And a god is not weak.

A god is reliable and trustworthy. A god is someone one can pray to. A god is flawless.

Winter frowns at the realization.

"Going back to work will be very interesting, won't it?" she chimed in once more, trying to start a conversation with him.

He stiffens for a moment before turning around to look at her again. Then, slowly, he answers, "It'll be. You'll still have to be careful."

"We'll have to be careful..." she corrected, beaming down at him.

"We can get to the bottom of this! I know it!"

"Winter, you have to understand. I've personally dealt with the likes of this before, and I've already involved you too much just by confessing-"

"There's no such thing as too much, Sir Lexington. You told me about it because you trust me, right? If you do, you should do it all the way."

Marcellus was alarmed to see a hurt look in Winter's eyes. 

He frowns, a bit guilty. He didn't mean to make her think like that, but he didn't know how else to break it down to her. 

"Winter, what do you want from me? I'm only withholding information about my past because ignorance will help you in this case. I only want to keep you safe-"

"And place yourself in the crossfire...?" she cut him off and glared at him.

"No way! I won't let you! You trusted me with all of this. So, I'll see this whole thing through with you!"

"Winter-"

"Please, Sir Lexington. Just tell me what's on your mind. Tell me how you feel."

Her expression softens, and so does her voice. Yet his gaze remains shadowed.

"I can't say everything," he said coldly.

"Why not?" she asked, her breath hitching.

"Because it's my choice. My feelings are not what's important here, so I choose not to share them with you."

"So, you're just going to shut me out forever?"

"I'm not shutting you out."

"That's what it seems like to me. If you're actively choosing to not talk to me, then you're shutting me out."

"If that's how you see it, then so be it. But this is a choice I intend to follow through with-"

He's taken aback when she moves to pull him into an embrace. It was so sudden - perhaps, just as sudden as when he revealed who he used to be. Even then, he can't help but melt in her warm and soothing gesture. She sure knows how to comfort even in the middle of an argument. 

"You don't have to bear all of it alone. I'll be here for you from now on," she told him, and he tried his hardest to believe it.

---

Winter lies wide awake beside Marcellus. 

He slept moments after he had his dinner. It only turned out to be a passing fever - nothing too serious. However, everything he said while he was having it was a massive deal. 

Now that they're officially a couple, Marcellus has felt the need to at least tell a bit of his past to Winter.

"For a long time, he didn't let himself be happy..." was what Claude had told her some time ago. 

"Even now, he thinks he can't be truly happy."

He'd been surprised to learn that she knows a lot, but then, he'd expressed that he's glad for it.

Claude had told her that his family knew about his past, but Marcellus didn't want to share all the details - he couldn't even talk about his parents for too long. His uncle and grandparents had tried to help him in every way they could. Even still, he has always kept his true feelings to himself, and he's ever so rarely open about his pains.

"I wish he'd let himself be. Instead, he thinks he deserves nothing," Winter had muttered in response.

"Do you think he deserves nothing?" Claude had inquired.

She had shaken her head vehemently. He had smiled then. 

"Then, please swear, Ms. Middleton. Do for him what his family can't do,"  Claude pleaded to which Winter nodded.

"You don't have to make me swear."