Lazarus didn’t blink.
“I’ve been watching you, Amir.Since the moment your mission in England began.”
His voice was unnaturally calm.Controlled to the point of menace.
A stark contrast to the storm raging inside me.
“Getting involved with the daughter of your enemy?”
Lazarus’ voice was low, but the weight behind it hit hard, each word laced with quiet condemnation.He shook his head slowly, disappointment settling in his eyes—cutting deeper than any wound I’d ever taken in battle.
“And now,” he sighed, “Lady Alexander is revealed to be a Timehealer.One who has crafted a potent poison meant to ensnare Salvatore.”
My heart pounded, each beat like a war drum battering against his words.
“If Salvatore or Mathias see you together,” Lazarus warned, his voice hard, “they’ll connect the dots.Instantly.And she—she will meet her demise.”
He paused, gaze sharpening.
“He will spirit her away, torture her for her secrets.She will die, Amir.Do you understand this?”
For a breath—just a heartbeat—his tone softened.A rare fracture in the armor of the man who had shaped every step of my life.
“I’m sorry.I know you love her,” he said quietly.“But you must let her go.”
The words hit like steel, twisting in my gut, tearing something raw and sacred inside me.
My fists clenched at my sides, the stoicism I wore like armor beginning to fracture beneath the weight of his demand.
“Love demands sacrifice, Pasha Hassan,” he added—almost idly.
But that phrase…
It hung like a noose between us.
Letting her go…
My voice was a whisper carved from stone.
“It might be the hardest battle I’ve ever fought.”
“Indeed,” Lazarus said, turning back to his desk, dismissing me—as if my agony was nothing more than collateral.
“But it is one you must endure—for her sake.”
The heat inside me ignited, fury surging beneath my skin.
A wildfire.
Uncontainable.
“None of this—none of it—would have happened if you had controlled Isabelle.If she hadn’t separated the Blade of Shadows.”
My voice thundered through the study, shattering the quiet like glass underfoot.
Righteous fury propelled every word.
“The weight of this disaster rests on your shoulders, Lazarus.You have cursed me—condemned me to a life of darkness, of unfulfilled longing.I can never truly be happy, never find love in this wicked world.”
