“Did it, now?And what were you doing in France?”
His voice was silk and steel, each word dripping with something venomous.
“And how, pray tell, do you know what the Black Wraith’s mask looks like?Have you met him… personally?”
His eyes narrowed to slits, dark pools that saw too much.
I swallowed hard, realizing my mistake.I had given him something—a thread to pull.But I wouldn’t let him unravel me.
Ignoring his question, I lifted my other hand, revealing the container that held the Noctyss flower.
“This is mine.You stole this flower from me.”
Amir’s jaw clenched, his muscles taut with barely restrained emotion.
“The flower, darling, is dangerous.And if you don’t leave this place right now, you’ll regret it,” he growled, the warning hanging between us like a guillotine’s blade.
With quiet defiance, I stepped forward, my pulse hammering, and placed the flower on the desk.
“I’m not leaving until I have answers.”My voice was steel now.“You stole my flower.You have the Black Wraith’s mask.You knew where my alchemy cottage was, which could only mean one thing?—”
I exhaled, the words slicing the air.“You’re the masked man.”
Something flickered across Amir’s face for a moment—denial or something deeper.But it was gone as swiftly as lightning.
“I tracked down the mask maker responsible for crafting the Black Wraith’s mask,” he said smoothly.“I forced him to reveal its origins before ending his life.”
His voice was even.Unapologetic.
“And yes, I took your flower.”
My stomach twisted, but I held his gaze.
“Because in the wrong hands—or the right ones with enough knowledge—it’s more than dangerous.”His voice dipped lower, a quiet finality in the words.“It’s catastrophic.”
“Tell me the truth, Amir.”My voice didn’t waver this time.“How did you find my alchemy cottage?”
His gaze didn’t flicker.“Your father told me where it was.”
The lie curled between us, too smooth, too convenient.
“And as for the masked man,” he continued, stepping closer.
His lips curved into something cold.
“Let me make one thing clear—I am not the Black Wraith.”
I searched his face, my breath shallow, waiting for the flicker of a lie.
Amir Hassan was an enigma.A fortress with walls too high to scale.He stirred embers of fear and fascination within me, but I held the card now—I knew.
And I knew he was lying.
My voice cut through the silence, edged with accusation, echoing off the cold stone walls of his study.“Stop lying to me, Amir.I know you are the masked man.”
His eyes darkened, but I didn’t stop.I couldn’t.
“My father never told you about my cottage… because you already knew.You were the one who captured me there.You and your men.”
