“We found her betrothed in a tavern,” Malik interjected defensively. “Raul was attacking her. We tried to save her and Osman.”
Pasha Hassan’s laugh was devoid of humor, cold as the steel in his hand. “Do you think I am so easily fooled? I am not an idiot. So stop with your stupid stories.”
Little Luna’s wail pierced the tension, and Rosie’s whimper followed, a haunting echo. The sounds roused a primal fear that had lain dormant. Pasha Hassan’s eyes gleamed with ruthless calculation as he seized upon our vulnerability.
“I am sure you want your children to live. You either hand over the daggers, or I will slaughter your kids.” His voice was chillingly casual, as if discussing the weather rather than threatening innocent lives.
To my disbelief, Roman chuckled—a sound so out of place it bordered on hysteria. I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut. What was he doing?
“It’s about time we come clean and reveal our true identities,” Roman said, his laughter subsiding into a cocky grin. “We are Timehunters. This is my clan.”
He placed a protective arm around Malik. “Yes, Malik is darkness, but he’s part of our little band of Timehunters. He comes in quite handy when it comes to torture.”
“Really?” Pasha Hassan arched an eyebrow, his sneer a cruel slash across his face. “Which Timehunter society do you come from?”
“We are the powerful Timehunters from England,” Roman said with an air of bravado that made my skin crawl. “We run that society.”
Pasha Hassan scoffed. “That society was destroyed many years ago by a man named Amir.”
“Not everyone. Some of us escaped,” Roman said smoothly.
Pasha Hassan glared at Roman, his piercing eyes narrowing. “Timehunters, you say. Then you must prove to me that you are Timehunters. If you can prove it, I will not seize the sun and moon daggers, and your children will be safe.”
The hollow promise did nothing to ease the vice grip of dread tightening around my heart. How could we convince this man of our allegiance when deception was the only currency we had to barter with?
“We don’t have the blades,” I said, trembling. The night stretched endlessly, the stars cold and distant, offering no mercy.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the carriage door swing open, and men dressed in black emerged, their hands clutching the hilts of the sun and moon daggers.
“We’ve got them!” one of them shouted.
Luna’s wails shattered the silence, her cries piercing the heavy atmosphere like shards of glass. Beside her, Rosie’s small form trembled, her wide eyes glistening with terror.
“No!” a scream erupted from deep within me, wild and untamed.
Pasha Hassan merely raised an eyebrow, his expression disturbingly serene amid the chaos. His calm demeanor only fueled the storm of emotions within me.
“I will forgive the lie,” he said, his voice smooth, almost condescending. “You did what anyone would have in your situation. But now… You must prove you are a Timehunter, or your life and your precious children’s lives are at stake.” His tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather, as if such negotiations were commonplace for him.
Fury boiled inside me, directed at Roman. What had he done? His reckless words had placed our children in harm’s way, turning their innocence into pawns in this deadly game. My chest heaved with the effort to contain my rage.
With a swift, desperate movement, Roman reached into the carriage, pulling Luna and Rosie into his arms. They clung to him, their cries mingling into a haunting, heart-wrenching chorus.
Sixteen warriors moved with precision, closing ranks around him and blocking any avenue of escape. Their weapons gleamed in the dimming light, a silent but deadly threat.
“Men, gather up,” Pasha Hassan commanded, his voice cutting through the tense stillness as he turned to address his legion. “We have been here long enough. The children shall stay in the carriage with your wife and Reyna. We have a long way to go, so saddle up.”
The warriors moved with chilling efficiency, mounting their horses and forming a grim procession that stretched into the dusk. Their presence loomed like shadows, heavy and inescapable. I turned to Reyna, the sight of her filling me with a venomous rage. Her eyes brimmed with turmoil, her lips trembling as if she were grasping for words that might bridge the chasm she had created.
“I am disgusted with you,” I spat, each word like a shard of ice. “You set us up. I want nothing to do with you. You are nothing but a liar.”
Betrayal burned through my veins, eclipsing fear and grief. I could barely look at her without the fury boiling over.
Reyna reached out, her hand shaking, but I recoiled as though her touch were fire. “I will explain everything,” she whispered.
But there was no time for explanations. Pasha Hassan’s men were already in motion, their steely grip dragging Roman and Malik away. My stomach churned as I watched one of the warriors bind Malik’s wrists with slender belladonna branches—a cruel irony, given the plant’s deadly reputation despite its beauty.
“Stop! You’re hurting my daddy!” Rosie’s piercing scream shattered the night, her plea for Malik heartbreakingly innocent. Her small voice, filled with raw emotion, cut through the suffocating tension, a reminder of the stakes we faced.
