“I’m sorry, Zara,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, each word trembling sincerely. “For turning away from you, for becoming this… evil monster. I missed you—your wisdom, your guidance. I missed everything about you. And to know you’re alive… to know Freya is alive too…” His voice cracked, and he let the words hang heavy in the air.
Then, slowly, he turned to face me. His gaze, filled with remorse and hope, met mine for the first time without malice.
“Malik,” he said, addressing me directly, “I know I’ve done terrible, despicable things. The road to redemption is long and difficult, but with both of your guidance… I hope to return to being the man I once was.”
Upon hearing Balthazar’s words, my chest tightened with mixed emotions. My eyes, usually steady and unwavering, flickered with hope as I absorbed the weight of his confession. The air between us seemed to crackle with vulnerability, the sincerity in his voice—a voice that once commanded fear and respect—cutting through the layers of darkness. Despite our tumultuous past, a sliver of belief stirred within me, fragile but persistent, whispering of second chances and redemption.
“I’m leaving. Zara, is there anything I need to know before I go?” I asked, my tone brisk, though my heart was heavy.
“It’s about to get dark and dangerous,” she said, her voice low but fierce. “We’re going to lose people. Protect Olivia and Roman. Protect your heart. Don’t let your emotions get in the way.”
Her words landed like a weight on my shoulders, a burden I hadn’t fully realized I’d accepted.
“You’re in good hands,” she added. “Pasha Hassan is a good man. You’re going to like him.”
“Okay,” I replied, with a nonchalance I didn’t feel. The corner of my mouth twitched into a wry smile. “Have fun with Balthazar. I’m sure you both have a lot of catching up to do. Maybe having sex with him will help him remember.”
The words were meant to break the tension, a thin veil of humor to mask the unease in my gut.
Zara’s expression hardened, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. “No. He doesn’t deserve to share intimacy with me.”
Her rebuff was a cold splash of reality.
Without another word, I stepped out into the corridor, the door closing behind me with a resolute finality. The weight of what I’d left behind lingered, the revelations and pain sealing themselves away in the confines of that chamber.
Darkness enveloped me as I stepped into my room, the worn tavern floorboards muffling my cautious footsteps. My eyes had barely adjusted to the absence of light when a presence whirled around me. From the shadows, Reyna’s silhouette emerged with fluid precision. Cold steel kissed my throat—the unmistakable sharp edge of her dagger, wielded with deadly accuracy by her delicate hands.
“It’s just me,” I said, my voice steady despite the blade at my neck. “Why the sudden attack?”
“I’m protecting Rosie from intruders,” she said.
“Is that what you think I am? An intruder?”
She didn’t answer, her silence more telling than any words.
“You’re fast,” I said, a hint of admiration slipping into my tone. “How did you get to be so skilled?”
Her breath was ragged, the tension between us thick in the stillness. “How are you connected to Zara?”
“Zara?” I echoed smoothly, masking my reaction. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She pressed closer, her chest rising and falling against my back, her breath hot and uneven. The heat of her body, the subtle curve of her frame pressing against me, sent a dangerous thrill coursing through my veins. My body betrayed me—my cock hardened, and a wicked smile curved my lips. I leaned imperceptibly into her, savoring the illicit contact. In one fluid motion, I spun on my heel. The blade grazed my skin, leaving a whisper-thin line of warmth as a bead of blood traced its path. I faced her now, our proximity electric.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her breath unsteady.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” My voice dropped, laced with seduction, as I brushed my finger along her cheek.
She shoved my hand away, her defiance as sharp as the blade she still held. “Trying to seduce me?”
Her voice was cutting, but beneath it trembled something unspoken, unguarded.
“Can you blame me?” I murmured, my hand trailing to the nape of her neck, my fingertips seeking the rapid thrum of her pulse.
With unexpected strength, she shoved me back, her ferocity commanding. “I see what you’re up to, Malik,” she sneered, a smirk playing at her lips as she stepped away, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.
“Stay away from me. Don’t delude yourself into thinking I have any interest in you.” She paused, her voice hardening. “Have you quenched your thirst for blood yet?”
“Thank you for asking,” I said, grinning as I stepped closer. “Quite enough.”
