Chapter 59
Cyrus stormed out of the villa, his departure marked by a violent altercation with those who tried to prevent him from leaving. The air outside did little to quell the suffocating feeling that had been building within him. He couldn't bear to remain in that place any longer, surrounded by people who seemed to feed his growing disgust.
Leora and her insufferable arrogance, showing no regard for his feelings. Neno, with his infantile attitude, perpetually weeping as if the world owed him something. The Prophet, ever judgmental, his air of self-righteousness maddening. And the Queen... the very thought of her made his blood boil.
The glass in his hand shattered under the pressure of his grip, drawing startled glances from the other patrons in the dimly lit bar. "What?" he snarled, challenging anyone who dared to look at him askance.
Cup after cup, he drowned his sorrows, hurling curses at anyone foolish enough to rebuke him. His world had narrowed to the bottom of his glass when a familiar figure slid onto the barstool beside him.
"Cyrus, what are you doing?" Mariline's voice cut through his alcohol-induced haze as she snatched the glass from his hand.
"Hey, I'm a grown-up man now. Give me my glass," he slurred, reaching for the confiscated drink. His protests were silenced by a resounding slap that seemed to echo through the bar.
"A grown-up man doesn't sit and cry in his corners when things become difficult. Now let's leave," Mariline said firmly, settling his tab before half-dragging him out of the establishment.
The cool night air did little to sober Cyrus as they made their way to Mariline's apartment. Once inside, she unceremoniously tossed her bag aside and forced him to sit. "Calm enough? Or do you need another one?" she asked, her palm raised in warning.
Cyrus's eyes widened as he gingerly caressed his jaw, shaking his head timidly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I think I couldn't hold it anymore. It had to come out."
Mariline's expression softened slightly. "I understand. It always comes out, and that's why I need to talk to you, Cyrus."
As his vision cleared, Cyrus noticed something different about Mariline. She wore a long-sleeved shirt, unusual for her. Before she could react, he grasped her arms, pushing up the sleeves to reveal skin marred with a tapestry of scars and bruises.
"What happened to you?" he asked, concern cutting through his inebriation.
Mariline pulled away, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the bustling city below. "Do you remember what I told you about choice on our last date?" she asked, her gaze fixed on the twinkling lights beyond the glass.
Cyrus joined her, the cityscape before them a mesmerizing backdrop to the weight of her words. "I work for the Bureau," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.
The revelation hit Cyrus like a physical blow, causing him to stumble. The alcohol in his system amplified his disorientation. "These marks," Mariline continued, gesturing to her arms, "are the result of the choice I made to let you go that day."
She hugged herself, trembling as if buffeted by an unseen, chilling wind. Cyrus's heart ached at the sight, his mind replaying their encounter in the park, when she had helped him escape the Bureau's agents.
"It... it doesn't change anything, right?" he asked, his voice uncertain. The Bureau's pervasive influence in Arkania was no secret. It offered the best pay, the best opportunities. All the great families, even the Bites, magic schools like Eldor's, and business magnates like Don Sanchez were connected to it in some way. The Bureau's roots ran deep, planted during the Great War and nurtured over centuries. Its power stood unshakeable, like an immovable mountain.
Mariline turned to him, her eyes flickering with surprise. "I don't think you understand what I mean," she said softly.
"You're right, and frankly, I don't want to," Cyrus replied, his words slurring slightly. "Unlike everyone at the villa, you've always supported me. Never tired of listening to my endless rants and laments. Even if it wasn't genuine, even if you were forced to get close to me, it doesn't change anything."
"You're drunk, Cyrus," Mariline said, a note of warning in her voice.
"Yes, I am," he agreed, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, Mariline trembling slightly but not pushing him away. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer. Her body radiated heat, her voice a siren's call.
"Cyrus, I don't think this is what you want," she gasped, breaking away for air.
"What I want is right in front of me," he murmured, capturing her lips once more. She had always been his crush, the reason he had taken up jogging despite his distaste for it, just for the chance to see her.
Gently, he lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom. Clothes fell away, revealing skin marked by scars and untold stories. As he laid her on the bed, their eyes remained locked, a silent communication passing between them. Cyrus paused, drinking in the sight of her, his breathing growing heavy with desire. In that moment, he let go of everything else, losing himself in her embrace.
Their bodies moved together, soft moans echoing through the apartment. It was a night of shared vulnerability, of passion born from pain and longing.
The next morning, Cyrus awoke with a pounding headache, a reminder of his overindulgence. Mariline lay on his chest, a contented smile gracing her features. He blinked, sitting up abruptly as the events of the night before came rushing back.
"What? Dissatisfied it isn't Leora?" Mariline asked playfully, a hint of insecurity beneath her teasing tone.
"Not at all," Cyrus assured her, pulling her back into his embrace and flipping her onto the bed.
"You didn't have enough last night?" she asked, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest.
"Can I say no?" he replied, kissing her passionately. Mariline broke away, her expression turning serious. "Unfortunately, I have to leave," she said, rising and moving to the mirror.
Cyrus watched her, desire stirring anew as he took in her unclothed form. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but found it nearly impossible with such a sight before him.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to," he offered, leaning against the headboard.
Mariline paused for a moment before shaking her head. "It's fine. I'm used to it," she said softly, gathering her clothes.
Cyrus sat up straighter, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "You don't have to obey the Bureau. Make your choice, and I'll support you however I can. The Bites can protect you if I ask it as compensation for finding the primordial canine. Take your life out of their hands."
His words hung in the air between them, heavy with implications and possibilities. Mariline stood frozen, caught between the life she knew and the uncertain future Cyrus offered. The city beyond the windows continued its ceaseless rhythm, oblivious to the life-altering decision being contemplated within the apartment's walls.
As Mariline turned to face Cyrus, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, the weight of their shared night and the potential consequences of their actions settled over them like a shroud. Whatever her decision, they both knew that nothing would ever be the same again.