“We’ve walked through the darkness before,” I said softly, trying to reassure her, though I knew these shadows would be unlike any we had ever faced. “We’ll find our way out again.”
But even as I spoke, the same unspoken question lingered between us—How could we survive when every step ahead promised a dance with death?
“Has anyone ever passed these tests?” I asked, my voice a mix of curiosity and desperation. My grip on Olivia’s shoulders tightened as though sheer force could shield her from the truth.
Reyna’s response was maddeningly casual. “Of course. How else would we have the most powerful Timehunters here?”
I weighed her words, searching for a glimmer of deceit in her expression. The odds felt stacked against us, yet there was something in how she carried herself—an underlying belief that these trials, twisted and brutal as they were, might not be impossible to overcome.
“Number Four is the Duel of Fates,” she said, her voice cutting through my thoughts like a blade. “You will fight in a duel, but you will be tied to each other by your wrists. You’ll each wield a sword in your free hand. Your opponents will be several trained, black-hooded warriors armed with weapons infused with poison. One cut, and you will die.”
The words hit like a blow to the gut, and Olivia recoiled from me.
“No, Roman!” she cried, her voice laced with desperation. “This is madness.”
“Olivia, my love,” I said softly, stepping closer to cup her face. Her skin was cold, her fear radiating like a storm about to break. “We’ve faced the impossible before. Until our last dying breath, we will fight. Together.”
Her breaths came in sharp bursts, her chest heaving as panic threatened to consume her. But slowly, gradually, she nodded, her trust in me holding strong despite the terror we faced.
“Tell us the last test,” I said, steeling myself for Reyna’s answer.
Reyna hesitated for the first time, a flicker of something—was it respect or pity?—crossing her features.
“The fifth test is the Pit of Death,” she said finally, her tone devoid of emotion. “You must face the Executioner. He is the most powerful warrior in the world. You will fight him in the pit, and you may choose any weapon.”
Her gaze faltered, dropping to the floor as if she couldn’t bear to meet our eyes. “Those are the tasks.”
“Thank you,” I forced out through gritted teeth, the words bitter as bile.
Reyna gave a curt nod, then turned sharply on her heel and disappeared from the room, leaving us alone in the oppressive silence.
Every breath Olivia and I took seemed to cut through the stillness, sharpened by the anticipation of what would come.
“Roman,” she whispered, her voice trembling like a fragile thread stretched too tight, “do you think we can survive this?”
I looked at her, the weight of her question pressing down on me like an unbearable burden. But I could only give one answer, even if it felt like a lie.
“We must,” I replied, squeezing her hand with a conviction I wasn’t sure I possessed. But for her, for us, I would believe in the impossible.
The sound of heavy boots against stone echoed down the corridor, each step a harbinger of doom. Pasha Hassan appeared in the doorway, his towering figure cloaked in an air of authority and merciless resolve. He surveyed us with a chilling calm, his presence suffocating the room like a storm cloud blotting out the sun.
“I trust you are prepared for your tasks,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You have a couple hours left. Make it count.”
Olivia’s grip on my hand tightened as his words settled over us. I turned to her, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead and cradling her face. My gaze locked onto hers, and I poured every ounce of strength into the next words.
“I promise we’ll make it through this,” I vowed, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “For Rosie. For Luna. For us.”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her vulnerability exposed, but I met them with the determination in my own. With every breath I had left, I kissed her forehead, a silent vow to fight for her, for our family. As Pasha Hassan disappeared into the shadows again, the oppressive silence returned, heavier than before. The weight of the coming trials pressed down on us like an iron shroud. I held onto Olivia, willing to believe we could defy the odds and emerge from the darkness. But deep down, I knew the road ahead would be more treacherous than I could ever imagine.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
OLIVIA
The grip of the black-clad warriors on our arms was unyielding as Roman and I were propelled through a maze of opulence, only to be thrust into a room utterly devoid of such splendor. The door slammed shut behind us, the echo bouncing off cold stone walls. We found ourselves in a barren cell, the air stale and suffocating. Harsh light slanted through a narrow-slit window, illuminating swirling dust motes but offering no warmth to the lifeless gray stones surrounding us. The room was empty, devoid of comfort, with nowhere to sit but the cold, unforgiving floor.
My heart thundered in my chest, each frantic beat a reminder of our peril. My fingers twisted together, knuckles white, betraying the fear I couldn’t suppress. I pressed my back against the icy wall, hoping to draw strength from its solidity. Closing my eyes, I tried to find solace in the stillness within, a fragile attempt at meditation to calm the rising panic in my throat.
The minutes crawled by, each one stretching unbearably. As I sat in the damp, cramped cell, my mind wandered to my babies—Luna and Rosie. Were they safe? Did they know how much I loved them? The thought of them in this wretched place tore at me, shredding what little composure I had left.
