Mary was his. Mary had always been his.  From the moment he'd laid his midnight blue eyes on her, he had set claim.  She was eight years old. He was determined that they would be married.  He had proposed to her when she was nine, and they'd been out in the maze garden playing hide and seek.  There was no where she could hid that he couldnt find her.  
He always found her.  He always would.
Of course she didnt take it seriously. He didnt mind. He could wait.
The years passed and they remained tight friends.
Mary was in his heart and soul.
He knew her every secret, her every wish.

When he was 18, he eagerly accepted a job with Marcus Sheriby. He intended to rise in rank so that he could openly earn the right to ask for his daughter.
He never expected the dark side of the job.
Within three years he was introduced to the cult.
And indoctrinated.
Tag was born, and in his birth he became a monster.
Blood stained his hands and heart.
But Mary was always there, sweet Mary.
Still such a young girl of 17.

He thought his worst nightmare came the day
Mary was brought to the lair.
But that was just the beginning.

He would never forget the sight of her chained and bound.
Nor would he forget his role in her torture.

She was free now, somewhere, and he had to find her.
The Mark of Death was on her trail.
And he'd sent Tag to kill her.