I wake up, my whole body aching deeply. Every movement, every twitch, sends bolts of pain shooting through me. For a few seconds, I forget where I am or what happened. Then, it all comes back in a rush and my heart starts to race.

Slowly and carefully, I sit up. My eyes feel heavy and sore as I blink. Thankfully, it isn't too bright in here. Long, dark grey curtains hang over windows that rise from floor to ceiling. Daylight seeps in through the gaps, illuminating the room in a gentle glow.

I push aside the covers, pausing for a moment to enjoy the feel of the black silky blankets. Then, I look around at the rest of the bed. It is huge, making me feel tiny in it. I shift to the edge and step down onto ashy-coloured wooden floors.

At the end of the bed, a large grey rug rests on the floor. The walls are dark grey, almost black. Yet, despite the dark colours, the room feels strangely warm. Perhaps it's the deep green plants in their sleek grey pots, or maybe it's the pristine grey furniture lined with warm, bronze-coloured wood, adding streaks of colour. Either way, the room is huge, modern, and very fancy.

I look down, realising I'm wearing a large, loose black T-shirt. It comes halfway down my thighs and hangs over my bruised body baggily. I am also wearing fresh underwear. Well, not a bra. Someone must have changed me, and I know it wouldn't have been Marcus. It must have been that doctor.

Sighing, I limp over to the window and draw back the curtain. As I look out of the window, the breath leaves my body.

The view is incredible. I can see out across the whole city. Miles upon miles of buildings and skyscrapers fill the skyline. Bright green fields and parks are shaped in perfect rectangles, breaking up the buildings. In the sunlight, the deep blue river that curls through the city almost seems to sparkle.

What a view to have from one's bedroom. If I had a view like this, I would never leave. I figured Marcus' job must pay well, but this is beyond anything I could ever have imagined. With a sigh, I turn away from the window, knowing I need to find out what's going on and figure out the next steps of my plan.

I limp over to the door, then pause as I catch my reflection in the large circle mirror that hangs above a table. For a few moments, I can't believe that it is me.

My face, especially the side of it, is still swollen. Bruises, beginning to turn purple, cover my skin. I reach up, pressing my finger over the white tape that covers the stitches of the large cut on my temple.

That's going to scar.

Sighing, I look away. As I'm about to open the door, I hear Marcus' voice. Carefully, I open it, just an inch so I can hear what he's saying.

"The case is closed. Rule it an accident then hide the case files behind untouchable layers of confidentiality. Burry it."

He pauses, and I can't hear what the other person, who I assume he is on the phone with, is saying.

Marcus sighs in frustration. "I don't care if Gareth fucking Salt wants answers. He can't have them. Clarkie is dead. It was a terrible accident. That's all he gets to know. Tell him that if he wants to dig into this, then Clarkie's criminal record will suddenly be leaked, and the president will see the type of man Gareth likes to befriend. That will shut him up."

There is a moment of silence as someone else speaks.

"He did a number on her. I wish I'd got there sooner. I should have dealt with Gareth and Clarkie sooner. We were too careful. We were too soft, and they took advantage of that."

I gulp, feeling a twinge of guilt for manipulating Marcus into a situation like this. Still, it was either this or let Clarkie carry on being a monster.

"No, Gareth had no part of Clarkie's plan, that's for sure. He's obsessed with Ivy; he'd never see her hurt like that. Clarkie was on his own."

I find myself nodding in agreement. There is no doubt about that. Mr Salt is a pervert, but he isn't sadistic. Not like that, anyway.

"I've got to go. Keep me updated. I need to prepare for my meeting with the Commander. Alright. Bye."

As he hangs up, I push the door open. Marcus looks at me as soon as I enter the huge, open-space living room. I can't help but look around in awe at the high ceilings, towering windows, and modern furniture.

"This place is amazing," I say as I limp towards him.

Marcus' mouth drops open for a moment and he stares at me curiously.

"Really, that's what's on your mind right now?" he asks.

I gulp and look him in the eyes. More guilt gnaws at me as he looks over me with worry.

"If I think about this, then I'm not thinking about other things," I say, my voice quiet. Marcus clenches his jaw and looks over me, his worried expression growing stronger.

"You should still be in bed," he finally says.

"How long have I been sleeping? What time is it?"

"It's five pm," he says. "You've been out for a solid sixteen hours."

I almost laugh to myself. Sixteen hours sleep after a beating like that. What a luxury. Back at the academy, we got maybe an extra hour in bed, if that. Then we were expected to be back in class. Maybe not the physical ones, but certainly the ones that only required our brains and a working hand to write all the notes.

"How are you feeling?" he asks and gestures for me to sit on the plush, black sofa.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" I ask, wincing as I sit and pain shoots through my ribs. Marcus walks over to the kitchen and pours a glass of water.

"What happened?" I ask.

"You were attacked," he says.

"I remember that part," I shudder. "After that." Marcus hands me the glass. "Thanks," I say, my throat dry. I almost moan as I drink.

"Well," he pauses and shifts awkwardly before taking a seat at the end of the sofa. "After I got your call and realised you were in danger, I tried to get to you as quickly as possible."

"Thank you," I say.

"I wasn't quick enough," he replies, not looking at me.

"If you'd been any later, I don't think I'd have an eye right now," I say, my voice trembling. He looks at me, his face going slightly pale.

"I'm sorry, Ivy. So sorry."

"Why are you apologising? You didn't attack me."

"I should have better protected you."

"You can't protect me from everything," I say softly. "And..." I trail off, looking away from me. "How did you protect me?"

He licks his lips. "What do you remember?" he asks.

"I'm not sure," I say, "It was all a blur. I thought I saw you... turning into... shadows," I whisper.

Marcus doesn't react for a moment.

"What are you?" I ask, my voice cracking slightly. He doesn't look at me. He just stares at the ground, his jaw tense.

Silence hangs in the air and my heart thunders in my chest. He closes his eyes, his body slumping slightly.

"You have every right to be terrified of me," he says. "I warned you..."

"I'm not scared of you, Marcus."

"You should be," he says. "You should be terrified and confused right now."

"I am," I say.

"You don't seem like it."

"Trust me, I am," I say, forcing out an awkward laugh. "But I'm forcing it aside. Just like I did in those tests," I remind him.

He looks back at me, staring at me intensely. "This is real life, not a test," he says.

"Marcus," I gulp. "I am trying to process this all in my own way." I let my voice waver and tears build in my eyes.

He lets out a long sigh. "I'm sorry," he says again. I bite at my quivering lip and gulp.

"Can you just tell me what happened?" I ask, my voice a whisper. "All I remember is one moment I was walking home and the next..." I trail off.

"I don't know exactly what happened. I got your call, heard you were in trouble, and got to you as quickly as I could, using the tracker on your phone." He pauses and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

"I should have gotten to you quicker," he says.

"And Clarkie?" I ask, my voice tiny. "Did you kill him?"

"Indirectly," Marcus says, not looking at me.

"What does that mean?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes, I want to know. I need to know," I urge, my voice trembling. I need to know if I got away with it.

Marcus nods his head. "I left Clarkie in a pretty bad state," he begins. "He tried to get away from the scene and went down into the underground. His injuries caught up with him and he collapsed in front of a train."

"Oh," I mutter, though inside, I'm relieved. It worked. They believe it. Marcus believes it.

"Why am I here and not a hospital?" I ask.

"A hospital with those kinds of injuries would have brought up too many questions and put you on Mr Salt's radar. This was the safest place."

"Oh," I say again, not sure how to respond.

"My friend, she is an excellent doctor. She patched you up and changed you."

"Thank you," I whisper. "What now?"

"I don't know, Ivy. I really don't know."

"Can I go home?"

"I would rather you stay here for a few days until the bruising and swelling go down a little bit. I've already sorted everything out at the MOD. I've told them you won't be back for a little while."

"Thank you," I reply. He nods his head and stands up.

"I need to go into the office in an hour. Let me make you some food, if you're feeling up to eating."

"I am," I reply. He stands and walks into the kitchen.

"Marcus?" I ask, getting ready to stand, and wincing.

"Don't stand, I'll bring food over. Don't worry."

I smile and lean back in the chair. A bubble of warmth ripples through me as I watch him turn on the stove and start cooking me up an egg dish.

"Marcus," I say again.

"Yes?" he asks.

"You haven't told me the extent of my injuries and please, don't sugar coat it. Give it to me straight. I need to know outright and not be babied. Just tell me."

He turns to face me and crosses his arms. "Very well. Thankfully, they aren't life-changing. You've got a few broken ribs, and the deep cuts on your head and chest will take a while to heal and will scar. We need to keep an eye on them over the next few days to make sure they don't get infected, but they should heal well. The rest is just lots of bruising and swelling. Thankfully, you are cleared of internal injuries, brain injuries, and any other major breakage."

"Thank you," I say. He nods his head and gets back to cooking. After five minutes, he brings over a steaming plate of scrambled eggs.

"Here," he says, handing it to me.

"Thank you so much," I say, my voice wobbling. "You don't have to look after me like this. I can go home. I'll be fine there."

"On your own, with no one to keep an eye on your injuries? I don't think so," he chuckles, but the sound is forced.

"Marcus, are you sure this is okay?" I ask with a tentative whisper.

His smile softens and he looks me in the eyes. "It's okay, Ivy. I am partly responsible for you being in this situation. The least you could do is let me look after you."

"Okay," I say and eat the eggs.

"You're handling all of this remarkably well."

I let out a small scoff. "I'll freak out once I'm on my own," I tell him.

"I understand that," he says.

"I still don't think I've properly realised what's happened. It hasn't hit me yet."

"It will," he says sadly. "Don't be afraid to call for help when it does."

"I won't."

"Good," he replies and stands. "Finish as much of your food as you can. I need to go and get ready."

I nod my head and Marcus disappears into his room, leaving me in awkward silence. I look around again, still shocked that I'm even here.

This worked out better than I ever could have imagined.

As I think that, another twist clamps my stomach as guilt gnaws at me. For a moment, I hate myself for putting Marcus through this, for scaring him into thinking I was about to die. For making him think that he is responsible for Clarkie's death.

"You can turn the TV on if you want, the remote is beside you," Marcus says from his room.

I reach for it and turn on the TV. The channel that pops up is the news.

"The Second Realm are mounting an attack. Images recovered from beyond the portals show forces gathered at the portal, clearly preparing to invade. Today, the Minister of Defence, Gareth Salt spoke out about the real threat of war, saying that we are in a pre-war era and warning citizens to prepare for the possibility of being drafted to fight."

My mouth dries and the food in my mouth feels stodgy and horrible. My heart thunders in my chest and I hold my breath as I wait for the reporter to finish.

"His statement has been met with mixed opinions from other politicians and military leaders, some in support and others believing it a scare tactic. Whether or not that is the case, what we can be certain of is that war is coming. Reports of second-realm sympathizers working within this realm have been uncovered. It is only a matter of time before our enemies attack us from within..."

I turn the channel over, my hands shaking.

"Don't listen to them," Marcus says, making me jump. I gulp, staring at his pale face. "Etrayer True News is just another mouthpiece for Gareth Salt and the likes. Propaganda and fear-mongering at its finest."

"I know," I say. "But it is still..." I trail off.

"Scary."

"Yes, all of it. Everything going on at the moment is just terrifying," I sigh. Marcus gulps and nods his head in agreement.

"We aren't going to war, are we?" I ask him hopefully. His jaw clenches and he doesn't look me in the eyes.

"Get some rest, Ivy," he says softly. "That is the best thing that will aid your recovery."

My stomach drops and I nod my head slowly.

"Okay," I whisper.

"I've got to go," he says quickly and moves towards the door. "The bathroom is through that door there if you need it. Sleep, if you can. I'll be back in an hour."

I can't respond. He doesn't wait for one. He rushes out of the door and I jump as it slams. Then, I stare at the television, thinking back to his lack of answer.

War is coming and it is close. As I realise that, all the guilt I fell for manipulating Marcus disappears. Marcus is the enemy. This realm is the enemy. I can't forget that. I won't forget that.

I will do whatever it takes to save the Second Realm. Even if it means taking hundreds more beatings, or killing hundreds more people.

I will not let them win.