“His spirit will guide us,” Olivia said, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames. “Just as it always has.”
I nodded, my resolve hardening with each passing moment. I would not let his death be in vain. Salvatore, Mathias, and Alina—they would answer for what they had done.
“Lee believed in balance,” I told her, my resolve hardening like the ground that now held him. “And balance will be restored.”
The feast continued into the night, celebrating a life that had touched so many. Yet as the stars began to emerge, the overwhelming emptiness left by Lee’s absence pressed heavily on my chest one by one. But alongside the ache, a searing fire burned deep within me, unyielding and unrelenting. It was the fire of vengeance—a promise to see Alina and her vile allies answer for their heinous crimes. No matter the cost, justice would prevail.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
OLIVIA
After the funeral, Roman and I returned to my father’s home, our hearts heavy and our faces streaked with tears. Grief clung to us like a physical weight, dragging us down with each step. Beneath the sadness, anger simmered—a deep, unrelenting frustration at the powerlessness I felt. Mathias had taken my father, and he could be anywhere, in any century, hidden beyond my reach. The sun and moon blade was missing, too, and with Lee’s sudden death, the despair surrounding us grew like a suffocating fog. It felt like all the light and hope had been drained from our world, leaving only shadows behind.
We sat together in the sunroom—a space unfamiliar to my teenage memories of this house. It was a new addition, just as alien as the sorrow filling the air. I cradled the iced tea Roman had made, its tartness softened by a hint of sweetness. The soft ice clinking against the glass was a faint comfort in our silence—a silence brimming with echoes of loss and the unspoken fears of what lay ahead.
“He must have updated it since I was last here,” Roman murmured, his gaze tracing the wooden beams of the ceiling and the expansive windows that invited the forest inside. “I don’t recall it looking like this.”
My father’s simple home in the woods bore the unmistakable marks of change, just as we did. Once cramped and outdated, the kitchen now gleamed with stainless-steel appliances and smooth granite countertops. But the renovations felt hollow without him here to share the moment, to witness our reactions.
“Roman,” I began, my voice breaking through the stillness, but the sound of crunching gravel cut me off.
Our eyes met, and without a word, we rose and stepped out into the cool embrace of the forest air. A beat-up van rattled down the narrow path toward the house, its worn exterior bearing countless stories of travel and survival. Behind the wheel was Marcellious, Emily beside him, their expressions unreadable as they approached.
As they stepped out of the van, exhaustion clung to Marcellious like a shadow. Dark circles under his eyes resembled bruises, remnants of battles fought silently. His hand kept drifting toward Emily—brushing her arm, encircling her waist—as if touching her anchored him to the present, to the fragile wholeness of their family in the aftermath of so much loss.
“How are you holding up?” Roman called out gently.
Marcellious managed a weak smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’d just gotten him back,” he said, his voice trembling. “Lee healed me, brought me back to life after Raul tried to break me. He meant everything to me, and now he’s gone.” The last word cracked as it left his lips.
A heavy silence followed, pressing on us like an unseen weight. The enormity of what had happened hung in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.
“I wanted to tell you something, Marcellious,” Roman said after a moment. “I met our father—in the Ottoman Empire, where we studied the scriptures and merged the blades.”
The revelation struck Marcellious like a physical blow. He staggered back, his body tensing, his face a mix of shock and anger.
“The only father I ever had was Moon Lee,” he spat, his words sharp and deliberate. “The man who gave his seed to our mother is dead to me—has been for a long time.”
Roman flinched at the venom in his brother’s voice. I stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm, hoping to offer comfort.
“I’m sorry, Marcellious,” I said, my voice choked with emotion. “It’s my fault Lee is gone. He took the bullet meant for me. He sacrificed himself to save my life. And now—he’s gone because of me.”
My confession ignited something deep within Marcellious. His face reddened with fury, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. Instead, he gripped my shoulders tightly, his voice low and seething with determination.
“Do not blame yourself for what happened to Lee,” he said, his tone a mixture of comfort and menace. “Your mother is the one responsible, and she will pay for her actions. I swear on Lee’s memory—I will see to it personally that justice is served.”
His words both comforted and unnerved me. I knew Marcellious would stop at nothing to avenge Lee’s death, even if it meant putting his own life on the line. Yet, in that moment, I was grateful for his unyielding resolve. Together, we would face the painful truths of what had transpired. Our journey to find my father and seek retribution for Lee had only just begun.
Emily stepped forward, the strain on her face softening as she addressed us. “I’m going to prepare us all a meal. Come on over in a while.” Her gaze lingered on Marcellious, a blend of affection and concern shining in her eyes. “I’m going to let Marcellious rest while I cook.”
I offered her a small, weary smile, my heart still aching with sharp pangs of loss. Yet, I felt a faint solace in her simple gesture of sharing a meal.
“Do you need help?” I asked, eager for the company and the understanding of someone who shared in our collective heartache.
“Thank you, sister, but no,” she replied with a gentle shake of her head. “I’d like to do something to help us all heal. You remember, when you met me, I was an herbalist. The tribe sent us home with many healing herbs.”
She wrapped me in a brief hug before turning to guide Marcellious back toward the van. Her steady and nurturing presence was a small balm for the storm that raged within us all.
When we entered Lee’s humble abode, the air was rich with the scent of herbs and spices. Malik, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration from what I assumed was a recent return from the hunt, joined Roman and me. Emily busied herself in the kitchen, where the rhythmic sounds of sizzling and chopping filled the room.
