Page 5 of Marked

“Inside,” he directed, turning the knob and waving me through. The second the door closed behind us, he started. “What’s holding you back?”

“I fucked up.”

“No shit,” he deadpanned. “What are you going to do about it?”

“There’s nothing Icando.”

“For someone with your IQ, your lack of intelligence in this situation is staggering.”

“Thanks?”

“Christ.” He looked to the ceiling. “I need to start charging for all these impromptu therapy sessions I keep having with you lovesick idiots. At the very least, Waverly should give me a raise.”

“Huh?”

“Listen and learn, Noah.” Duncan narrowed his eyes on me. “The past doesn't dictate your future unless you allow it. Fight for her before it’s too late.”

Something told me he was speaking from experience, but I knew better than to ask. His life before the FBI was one big redaction and he was content to keep it that way.

“My past has nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t it though?” He raised a brow.

I opened my mouth to deny his claim then quickly closed it when I realized he wasn’t far off the mark. There was a reason I’d kept my distance from Lanie for so long.

My older sister, Juliette, and I were close growing up, despite the four-year age gap between us. She started dating Matt during her freshman year of high school and for the first few years, he acted like the big brother I’d always wanted. They were ridiculously in love. So much so that after they graduated, they left our small Pennsylvania town in the dust to attend college together in New York.

That’s when I really noticed a change.

It was subtle at first. For instance, how she cut her beautiful long red hair because Matt preferred it shorter. Or how they stayed at school during most holiday breaks because Matt said it was wasteful to spend the extra money to come home.

They returned to our small community after four yearsaway and, in that time, Juliette had become a whisper of herself. My once outspoken, fun-loving sister had turned into a shrinking violet.

The day I left for college was the first time I saw bruises on her arms. She made excuses, of course, saying she’d bumped into something, but deep down a part of me couldn’t help but think the bastard was hurting her. Without any proof, there was nothing I could do.

They eloped shortly after I left. Then less than three years later, the cops were called to their home by a neighbor who heard a female screaming. She was found on the bedroom floor, beaten to hell and barely alive. There was no need for a trial. An extensive investigation—which included hospital records as well as photographs my sister had taken of her injuries—revealed years of domestic abuse. Matt pled guilty to attempted murder and would spend a good portion of his adult life behind bars.

“Noah.” He grasped my upper arm. “What happened to your sister was not your fault.”

“Juliette can’t have kids because of what that motherfucker did to her. Did you know that?” I cocked my head to the side.

“No.”

“It was my job to protect her and I failed in the worst way imaginable. So, yeah, it kinda is my fault.”

After everything with my sister, I switched my major, graduating with dual degrees in criminal justice and psychology. I hadn’t been able to keep my own flesh and blood safe, so becoming a cop put me in a position to save someone else’s Juliette. Joining the FBI was just the cherry on top.

“Did you hit her?”

I reared back at his growled words.

“Fuck no.”

“Kick her? Smash her face?—”

“Enough.” I spun out of his hold, my breaths quickening. “I get it, for fuck’s sake.”

“You don’t, but you will. Until then, figure out a way to unfuck whatever it is that happened with Lanie. Start by rebuilding your friendship. The rest will fall in place.”

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