Clutching the cold metal of the keys, my fingers trembled slightly—not from the chill of the night, but from the weight of what I was about to do. Each step toward the dungeon felt like descending into the depths of an evil abyss. The air grew colder, damper.
My mind was consumed by the memories of Roman’s and my passion, spent in the cloak of night, hidden from prying eyes. The echo of our lovemaking lingered as a bittersweet reminder that kept me going through my long, lonely days. I yearned for his warmth, his strength, but tonight, I walked alone in the darkness. My heart ached with longing, and his absence made my steps heavy.
As I edged closer to the dungeon door, my pulse quickened. Was it fear or determination that fueled my resolve? With a deep breath to steady myself, I slid the key into the lock, its click echoing ominously in the hollow space. The door creaked open, protesting the disturbance.
Inside, shadows clung to the walls, and the usual stench of belladonna poison was notably absent. My eyes adjusted to the dimness, drawn to a corner where Balthazar sat crumpled against the stone. His figure was hunched over something—or someone. It was Tristan, or rather what remained of him. His head rested on his father’s lap, a tragic tableau that reeked of grief and regret.
“I’m sorry for failing you, my son,” Balthazar murmured, his voice cracked and thick with sorrow. He stroked Tristan’s hair, oblivious to my presence. “I should have been a better father. I should have given you a better life. I should have put the past away and moved on. I wanted to bring your sisters back.”
Sisters?My breath caught in my throat, my heart aching at the raw pain in his words.
He continued, lost in his lamentations. “And now my greatest enemy has trapped me. Long ago, I had a wife. A Loving family. A wonderful life. Until they were taken away from me, I tried to look for my Freya but couldn’t find her. I only have my daughter Emily now, but she doesn’t want me. Oh, Tristan. I should have been a better father and left my past behind.”
His words trailed into the darkness, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. There he was, the feared Balthazar, broken and weeping, a monster mourning his child. I clenched the keys tighter, knuckles whitening. This man, this...father—Was he the beast I believed him to be, or something more complicated?
The chill of the dungeon seeped into my bones as I stood there, transfixed by Balthazar’s despair. In his grief, I saw not just the villain of my tales but a fragment of the man he might once have been—a man shattered by loss, twisted by vengeance.
The truth I sought seemed more elusive than ever.
The keys jangled in my hand. Balthazar’s head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto mine with a ferocity that made me recoil.
“Why have you come, Olivia?” he said, his voice dripping with disdain and something else—pain, perhaps? “To gloat? Are you filled with glee to find me here, locked up and tortured?”
The dim light glinted off the thick glass that separated us, casting eerie shadows across his haggard face.
“You,my dear, should be scared,” he said. “Mathias and Alina are the biggest monsters out there.”
I gasped, my heart pounding against my ribcage. His words were like a physical blow, jarring and unexpected.
“Mathias has only shown me kindness and respect,” I said, but my voice trembled with the uncertainty that had taken root deep within.
Balthazar’s laugh was hollow and mocking as it bounced off the stone walls. He turned away from me, his fingers lingering on Tristan’s lifeless form as if drawing strength—or maybe seeking forgiveness—from the son he’d outlived. Then, he crawled toward me, chains clanking, with a fluid motion that belied his earlier despair.
“Mathias is the biggest monster. The greatest actor,” he hissed through the barrier between us, his voice laced with a venom meant for someone not present. He pressed his callused palms against the glass. “That despicable monster killed my daughters. He took my wife from me. His daughter, your fucking mother, killed my Scarlett. He is using you, pretending to be the greatest host, protecting you, being the nice grandfather. But once he possesses those blades, he will kill you and show you no mercy.”
He withdrew, finding and cradling his son’s lifeless head.
My breath caught in my throat. I searched his face for signs of deceit, for the manipulation I’d been warned about. Yet, looking into his eyes, I saw not just the simmering anger but also the flicker of genuine fear, a father’s torment over lost children. Could a man so broken still weave such intricate lies?
The cold of the underground chamber seeped into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the icy dread that began to crystallize in my stomach. What if Balthazar spoke the truth?
My fingers tightened around the cold metal keys, my heart pounding in my chest. The heavy silence of the dungeon was punctuated only by Balthazar’s low sobs as he cradled his son’s head. A shiver ran down my spine.
“Who is Scarlett? Who are Balthazar’s daughters?” I whispered, the questions echoing off the stone walls. “You are nothing but a monstrous fiend, Balthazar. You have caused me immeasurable suffering. With one cruel act, you snuffed out the life of my innocent child and tore away a piece of my soul. You left me shattered and battered, bleeding from wounds that may never heal.”
The words fell into the darkness like stones into a well, their truth reverberating back at me. He lifted his head, and tears streaked the grime on his cheeks.
“I had no idea you were carrying a child,” he choked out. “A child is a blessing. I loved my children. They were my greatest joy. They were all taken away from me ruthlessly. If I destroyed the life inside you, I am deeply sorry. The loss of a child…”
His voice trailed off, held by a spider’s web of grief.
Confusion laced with an unwelcome surge of sympathy made my stomach churn. I had never seen Balthazar so vulnerable, in so much pain. The torment in his voice and his small confessions made me feel a bit sad for him.
“I’m sorry about Tristan,” I said, my voice softer than intended. “Mathias shouldn’t have killed him so brutally. He could have struck him with a sword and merely wounded him. But beheading him was awful.”
Balthazar snapped his gaze to mine. “Leave this place. Mathias and Alina are vicious monsters. Leave!”
“Flabbergasted” was too mild a word for what I felt.
