His disdainful tone painted an ugly picture of derision for life itself.
“They’re searching for the moon dagger, thinking it will save them. And Emily—may the abyss swallow her soul—is on the brink of spewing out her spawn any moment now.” His laughter was cruel, a symphony to my ears.
I leaned against the cool wood of the bookshelf, letting the shadows envelop me.
“Children,” I muttered, the word leaving a sour taste. “It disgusts me how Olivia and Emily are such enthusiastic breeders as if the world needs more of their kind.”
The concept of nurturing life was foreign, anathema to the essence of who I had become.
“Indeed,” Father said, the firelight casting sinister shapes upon his face. “Breeding weakness when we strive for power—foolishness.”
A smirk teased the edges of my lips as my father’s voice dripped with scorn.
“Oh, Marcellious has been captured and soon will be poisoned to death,” he said, his eyes alight with malice. “He will reveal my location to Balthazar, and that’s when I will capture him.”
Father leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a venomous whisper. “I hate that motherfucker.”
“Delicious,” I cooed, reveling in the thought of our enemies unraveling before us.
The door creaked open, and the sudden intrusion sliced through our conspiratorial bubble. Salvatore’s imposing figure filled the doorway, his presence an unexpected storm cloud darkening the room.
“My Lord, I have come to tell my daughter the news!” Father’s words tumbled out in a hasty greeting, but his voice betrayed a tremor of fear.
Salvatore raised an eyebrow. “I see. You come when you don’t think I’m here.”
“Forgive me,” Father stammered, his composure fraying at the edges like worn fabric. “It’s not what it looks like.”
He bowed low.
Salvatore said nothing, quietly studying my father. I shook where I stood, fearing Salvatore’s wrath.
“Mathias, you know how much I loathe it when you dare to communicate with your daughter without my presence,” Salvatore said through clenched teeth. “Tell me, have you finally brought me some news I want? Or are you foolishly scheming behind my back once again? Remember my power over you and how easily I could obliterate everything you hold dear.”
His voice was laced with a dangerous edge, his eyes burning fiery.
I caught the undercurrent of danger, realizing my father’s blunder. Salvatore’s power was absolute, his displeasure a sentence we could ill afford. Stepping forward, I sought to weave a mend into the fabric of our rapport.
“My Lord, forgive me,” I said, my tone smooth as silk yet edged with urgency. “My father came, and we wanted to catch up.”
A calculated risk, to interject—but necessary. We could not allow Salvatore’s displeasure to find root when we were so close to our dark victory.
Salvatore’s gaze, sharp as the edge of a scythe, swept over us, measuring our worth—or lack thereof. A silence swelled in the room, filled with the weight of his deliberation. Then, as if the heavens had parted to spare us from divine retribution, the corner of Salvatore’s lip twitched upward in a semblance of a smile.
“Very well,” he said, his voice low and steady like serenity after chaos. “I appreciate loyalty and obedience. You may continue.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight with apprehension, while a wave of relief washed through me at his words. Father straightened up, though the sweat on his brow betrayed his lingering unease.
“Our ragged group finally reached the shores of Wales,” Father said, his muscles tensed. “Malik, Roman, and Marcellious ventured out to gather supplies for our imminent search in the cave. I received intel that Raul Costa captured Marcellious; his days are numbered. With his death, I will continue my mission to dismantle the clan individually.”
A troubled look flickered across Father’s face. “My men also reported that Balthazar has allied with Raul Costa to extract information from Marcellious about Emily’s whereabouts. Once Marcellious reveals my location, I know Balthazar will arrive at my estate. I will then capture him and kill his son Tristan and bring him immense pain, just like I did when I killed his daughters those long years ago. His love for his children sickens me, and I want to continue to make him miserable and suffer.”
“Does Balthazar remember his past connections to Olivia and Roman?” Salvatore asked.
“Balthazar doesn’t remember a damn thing,” Father said. “He isn’t strong enough to kill Olivia. I believe deep down he still cares for her.”
“And do Olivia and Roman remember their previous lives as Isabelle and Armand?” Salvatore pressed.
“No, nothing at all. Olivia is pregnant again, and neither she nor Roman has any memory of their pasts,” Father said with a satisfied grin, reveling in his successful manipulation of their memories.
