The doctor had arrived and was bent over Olivia, his face etched with concentration as he examined her still form. My chest tightened as I took in the pale pallor of her skin, her lifeless appearance, a knife twisting in my gut.
“Sir,” the doctor said, “you must leave the room.”
“That’s my wife,” I growled, my voice laced with desperation and anger.
“Exactly why you can’t be here,” he countered, his gaze unwavering. “You’ll do more harm than good. Let me work.”
I clenched my fists, my body vibrating with the urge to fight him, to stay. But his words were an immovable wall, and with a reluctant step, I exited the room. The door closed behind me with a quiet click that sounded far too final.
Pacing the hallway, my mind reeled, clawing for a shred of control that continued to slip through my grasp. My eyes landed on the window, where I saw Reyna and Osman standing by the wagon, Raul still bound and immobilized in its bed.
The cold air hit me like a slap as I stormed onto the estate grounds, my breath visible in the brisk night. Reyna turned toward me, her expression unreadable, while Osman kept a watchful eye on Raul.
“Raul,” I snarled a low growl as I approached him. “How did you find us? What do you want?”
He squinted at me, his one good eye glinting with defiance and resignation. Despite his battered and bound state, a smugness lingered in his expression.
“Roman,” he said, his voice rasping but steady, “I believe I still have something you need—something you might have forgotten about.”
“Spit it out,” I snapped, my patience fraying under worry and weariness. My voice cut through the cold air like a blade.
Raul’s breath was labored, his face pale and drawn, beads of sweat glistening on his charred skin. “I have come to inform you of something,” he said, his tone urgent despite his obvious pain.
I fought to steady my trembling hands, my body shaking with equal parts rage and exhaustion. “And what is it you came here to tell me?”
Reyna stepped forward, her presence commanding as she extended her hand. In her palm rested a dagger, its polished blade catching the faint light.
“Raul had this,” she said evenly. “I took it from him while he writhed in pain from the burns. I believe it belongs to Olivia—or perhaps to you?”
Relief washed over me as I realized that Olivia’s beloved dagger had been returned.
“Thank you, Reyna,” I said, my voice softening as I met her unwavering gaze. Her bravery had once again proven invaluable.
She gave a curt nod and stepped back, allowing me to refocus on Raul.
“Reyna saved my child,” I said, my voice cold with contempt. “She fought off your men and risked her life. What did you hope to gain by attacking us?”
Raul’s lips curled into a bitter smirk, his good eye narrowing as he stared at me. “Power, Roman,” he spat. “It’s always power. But now… it’s slipping away. Just like everything else.”
His words hung heavy in the air, their bitterness a stark reflection of his defeat. Disgust coiled in my gut, twisting tighter with every passing moment.
“You’re beaten, Raul,” I said, my tone laced with contempt. “Yet here you are, tied like an animal. Tell me—was it worth it?”
A hollow laugh escaped him, devoid of joy or hope. “Nothing is ever worth it in the end,” he muttered, his voice little more than a whisper.
His words lingered in the cold night air, heavy with a truth I wasn’t ready to accept. I needed answers, but they wouldn’t come from a broken man whose schemes had crumbled to dust.
Mathias emerged from the estate, his steps purposeful as his gaze fell on Raul.
“What have we here?” he said, his voice tinged with disdain. He stopped before the wagon, glaring at Raul’s bound, battered form. “Costa, you’re an evil man. It seems fate has seen to your punishment.”
He turned to me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s take him to the dungeon where he belongs.”
The cold, damp air of the dungeon enveloped us as I followed Mathias down the narrow stone corridor, our footsteps echoing off the walls. Raul’s disheveled form dragged between us, his head bowed, the fight drained from him. Shadows clung to the edges of the hall like silent spectators as we reached an iron-barred door.
Mathias didn’t hesitate, securing Raul inside with practiced efficiency. The soft click of the lock echoed through the chamber, a quiet yet absolute finality to his fate. Together, we sealed him within the same glass enclosure that held Balthazar, his own reflection staring back at him—a ghost of his own making.
“Pathetic,” Mathias muttered, his gaze lingering on Raul with contempt. Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows.
