Page 123 of Power
I slammed my fist into his smirk before he had the chance to duck. Someone’s shriek registered nearby, but they were outside this elevator bank. And here, it was just me and him, the universe delivering its second gift when the doors closed.
With a hum, the elevator began its ascent to the top floor, but that short ride wasn’t enough for what I was about to do to him. Not even close. Pulling the emergency alarm, the car jerking into place, I trapped Marcus with me.
Who wiped his lip with the back of his hand, a smear of crimson against his pale skin.
“It was you,” I growled.
“Careful.” His voice was silky with threat. “I’d hate to see you sharing a prison cell with Knox.”
His knowledge of Knox, one of my closest real friends, was like salt in an open wound, reminding me of how much I’d shared with Marcus over the years. All those late nights, confessions over whiskey, vulnerabilities exposed to a traitor who was just pretending to care about me, pretending to care about my employees. I had trusted him with everything.
And he hurt Scarlett.
Something primal snapped inside me. I slammed my fist into his temple, my knuckles instantly screaming in pain, but the rage numbed it all. Marcus grabbed fistfuls of my suit jacket and slammed me against the side wall, the mirror cracking in an elaborate spiderweb pattern, then dropping shards of glass all around us in a symphony of tinkling clinks against the elevator floor.
I kneed him in the groin, and when he bent over, gasping, I slammed my elbow into his ribs, knocking him to the ground.
My kicks landed in his stomach, his back, his ass, so violent that I wondered if bones were cracking beneath my Italian leather shoes.
Suddenly, my balance gave out, and I landed on the floor of the elevator with a thud. He’d grabbed my ankle, and now I was the one on my back. Worse, my right arm was pinned beneath me as Marcus straddled me, holding a broken fragment of glass to my jugular.
“Why?” I snapped, voice rough with rage. “Why her?”
He smirked, blood staining his teeth.
“That’sthe question you’re asking right now? Not:Why am I taking your company? Why did I betray you? Why did I make you think you were the one driving that night?You just want to know about her?”
Think you were the one driving that night.The phrase echoed through my head, begging me to home in on it, screaming that the past was nothing like what I thought it was.
Problem was that my jugular rightfully reminded me that it was about to be sliced open.
I grabbed his wrist with my left hand and tried to pry my right arm out from under me, but the movement seared pain across my shoulder like it was ripping through tendons. I growled in frustration.
“Why her?” I screamed.
Marcus cocked his head, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
“Originally? Scarlett has a nice ass. I wanted to see what it looked like bent over my desk while I pounded her from?—”
I bucked him off me with a roar, rolling on top of him and landing an assault of punches to his head and face. Blood sprayed from his nose onto the mirror like abstract art.
“Little bitch should’ve kept her mouth shut,” he spat through bloodied lips, swinging back.
That landed him a punch to his mouth, his front left tooth cracking in half. He spat the fragment onto the floor and looked up at me, the rest of his teeth streaked in evenmore red.
“This is what you never understood,” he said as I grabbed him by the throat. He clutched my jacket in two fistfuls of fabric, pulling me closer. Not backing down, even now. His smile was almost serene, a madman’s peace. “The world isn’t fair, Jace. Never was. You play at business like it’s some noble calling, but it’s just the modern jungle.” He winced as blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth. “Power is all that matters. Everything else is just … pretty lies we tell the weak.”
I tightened my grip around his esophagus, but he kept talking.
“You think I crossed a line with Scarlett?” His eyes gleamed with something like pity. “If she didn’t want the attention, she wouldn’t dress the way that she does. She’s probably been playing this game for years, prancing around the office and pretending she doesn’t want men to touch her. She should be grateful that I gave her my attention.” His voice dropped to a confidential whisper. “And then she threatens me? Me?” A cold laugh. “I made this company what it is while you were playing philanthropist.”
Blood dripped down his cheek onto the pristine elevator floor, bright red against sterile white.
“Men like me make the real decisions, Jace. Always have. While you’ve been trying to save the world, I’ve been running it.”
I cracked him one last time in the eye, my knuckles splitting from the impact, digesting the words he’d said to me. He’d obviously resented me for years, aggrieved that I had gotten away with what I’d done all those years ago. Yet that phrase implied I’d never been the one to kill that woman.
“What did you mean?” I demanded, chest heaving. “You convinced me I was driving?”
