Malik strode over, his face set with determination. We had faced countless perils together, but none so personal, so wrenchingly intimate as this moment with Olivia’s vulnerability laid bare between us.
Malik’s eyes smoldered embers at the woman.
“Malik, you look more handsome than ever,” she said, her voice dripping with insincerity.
“Enough!” I said, an edge of ferocity cutting through my tone. “We have to get Olivia out of here.”
Lee barreled toward us, his muscles rippling with determination as we hoisted Olivia’s lifeless body between us. Urgently, we scaled the stairs, sweat beading on our brows as we raced against time to reach safety with our precious burden.
“We must care for her,” I said, more to myself than to anyone else, as we navigated the labyrinthine hallways of the estate. Malik paced beside me, each step a thunderous beat in tune with the wild tempest brewing within him.
Upon reaching Olivia’s bedroom, we gently laid her on the plush bed. Her serene face belied the moment’s chaos, and my hands shook as I brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. The weight of guilt crushed my chest as I stared at my wife’s pale, unconscious body. I shouldn’t have allowed her to be alone with those madmen, leaving her vulnerable and defenseless. I hoped she would wake up soon and forgive me for my mistake.
“Who was that woman?” I asked, turning to Malik with a gaze that sought answers.
“Olivia’s mother,” he spat out, the words laden with bitterness.
Shock coursed through me, rooting me to the spot. How could this be? Olivia had told me she’d witnessed her mother be killed by Balthazar.
“Can I help?” A maid had appeared at the doorframe, wringing her hands.
“Water,” I commanded, my voice hoarse. She scurried away and then returned with a basin and cloth.
As I wrung the cloth, water droplets fell like tears onto the wooden floor. I traced the contours of Olivia’s cheek with a tenderness borne of desperation.
“Come back to us, my love,” I whispered, a silent prayer for her swift return to consciousness.
Olivia’s eyelids fluttered, and I felt relieved as she returned to the waking world. I cradled her in my arms, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against mine—a rhythm that sang a counterpoint to the erratic drumming of my pulse.
“Oh, god, Roman. I’m so happy to see you. You will not believe it,” she murmured, her voice weak but filled with wonder. “I just had the strangest dream. I saw my mother live in the flesh, and Lee was with her. I think my pregnant brain is making things up. Mathias beheaded Tristan. Balthazar was captured.”
The room seemed to constrict around us, the air growing heavy with the weight of her words. Malik, pacing like a caged beast, spun toward us, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that pinned me to the spot.
“It wasn’t a fucking dream, Olivia.” His voice tore through the silence, each syllable sharp and incendiary. “She’s fucking alive.”
The profanity jolted through me—Malik, always the peacemaker, his decorum now shattered by the magnitude of our reality.
Olivia’s brow furrowed as she tried to piece together the fragments of her consciousness.
“My mom is alive?” Her incredulous whisper was a knife to my gut. “I thought she was dead. How is this possible? I saw it happen with my eyes. Balthazar stabbed her in the chest, and there was a funeral. Everything in my head is jumbled. I don’t know what’s going on. I need to speak to my mother.”
The urgency in her voice clawed at me, but the strategist within knew better than to act on impulse. My grip tightened around her, protective and resolute.
“No,” I said, anchoring her gaze with mine. “You should rest. Today has been hard on you. Malik and I have to come up with a plan. We must figure out what the next step is. This throws everything off with Lee’s and your mother’s arrival. We should focus on finding the dagger, but instead, we must deal with Alina’s sudden appearance.”
Conflicting emotions warred across Olivia’s face, her need for answers wrestling with the understanding that recklessness could cost us dearly. My mind raced, already sifting through possibilities, contingencies, and allies. In this twisted game where the board had been overturned and the pieces scattered, I knew one thing for certain—we were far from checkmate.
Olivia whipped around to face Malik, her eyes wide and pleading. Her shaky voice barely managed to whisper, “Did you know?”
The tension in the room crackled like a live wire.
“No! Mathias did not tell me anything,” Malik said. “I feel so used in this whole twisted plan!”
He could barely contain his rage, a raw, palpable force that seemed to vibrate through the air.
“Malik, please—” Olivia extended a hand and stroked his arm, her eyes brimming with concern.
“Don’t touch me!” His shout echoed off the walls, and Olivia recoiled. There was a wildness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before.
