His words slithered through the air like smoke, hard to grasp, harder still to trust. “Mathias is dangerous. Powerful and dangerous. He is under the guidance of Salvatore, the father of darkness. I was trained by Lazarus, who is the father of Timebornes. We are on the good side of things.”
“What do you mean you’re on the good side of things?” I asked, unable to mask the skepticism in my voice.
Pasha Hassan rose from his chair, pacing the room like a caged animal suddenly unleashed. His energy crackled with tension.
“My job,” he said, turning to face a portrait of a stern-faced man that hung upon the wall, “was to spy on Mathias and watch him closely.”
His gaze lingered on the painted eyes before he turned back to me.
“There was a time when Balthazar and I were good friends,” he admitted, his voice softening as though he spoke of a cherished memory now twisted by time. “But then Balthazar went off the rails with his vengeance against Mathias. He became a different person. I destroyed Mathias’ school of darkness.”
He took a deep breath, his words heavy with the weight of his past.
“After his school fell, Mathias spread his influence, creating new Timehunter societies in every country with his army of shadows and twisted followers.”
The dire implication made my heart race, painting a grim picture of an ever-growing force of evil seeping across the globe.
“Lazarus ordered me to destroy every Timehunter society built by Mathias,” Pasha Hassan said, his voice low but unyielding. “I destroyed them all.”
The study seemed to shrink around us as his claim reverberated in my mind. The conviction in his tone made it difficult to dismiss the enormity of what he said.
I glanced at Olivia, whose scowl mirrored the same confusion gnawing at my insides.
“My partner who has helped me destroy these societies,” Pasha Hassan continued, “is Zara.”
“Zara! The one who saved me from the fire,” Olivia exclaimed.
Pasha Hassan nodded.
“She is bound to protect you,” he said kindly, acknowledging Olivia’s bewilderment but not fully addressing it.
Olivia parted her lips, no doubt brimming with curiosity and burning questions, but Pasha Hassan raised a hand, signaling her to wait.
“My dear Olivia, I understand your need for answers and will provide them all. But first, Roman must know the truth about my past.” His eyes held a glint of sadness, shadows of secrets yet to be revealed.
He turned back to me. “Raul Costa’s society was the last I needed to destroy. So I sent Reyna and Osman to finish the job,” Pasha Hassan began. His voice grew quieter, the calm before an emotional storm. “Your grandfather, Thomas Alexander—your maternal grandfather—was England’s biggest and greatest Timehunter leader. He was despicable and deeply corrupt.”
The world I once knew shifted again, slipping away like sand beneath my feet.
“My job was to destroy that society. I didn’t expect to meet your mother,” he said, and for the first time, a tremor seemed to ripple through his resolve. “Your mother slipped into my home one night and confided in me. She told me she was betrothed to someone evil, a Timehunter three times her age. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen. I loved her too much. My heart ached for her and what her cruel father had arranged for her.”
He paused, his hand instinctively clutching his chest as though the memory had lodged like a dagger.
I winced, the thought of my beautiful, kind mother trapped in such a situation twisting my insides. The image of her marrying a ruthless, evil Timehunter was unfathomable.
“We fell in love,” Pasha Hassan continued, his voice heavy with emotion, “but I kept guarding my heart, knowing that my life was dangerous, and she deserved better. Yet, desire and temptation took over, and we began our affair. Then, you and your brother were conceived.”
He stopped, his words hanging in the air like an unspoken apology.
“During our time together, we destroyed the society,” he said, his voice firm but tinged with sorrow. “Everyone died, and your grandfather was left crippled.”
The words struck me like a blow.
“But then, what about her being disowned?” I interrupted, the mismatched pieces of my past clashing within me. “When she was alive, she mentioned that to me.”
Pasha Hassan’s jaw tightened, his expression shadowed by old wounds. “When I destroyed the Timehunter society,” he said, “your mother found out she was with child. Her father, already furious—his society destroyed, himself crippled, and her betrothed dead—could not handle another scandal. So he disowned her for shaming the family and for sleeping with the enemy—namely, me.”
His voice carried an undercurrent of bitterness as he began to pace the room, his footsteps purposeful yet restrained.
