And in his hands?—
My mother’s journal.
My blood boiled.
What in the goddamned hell happened to Malik? How could he do this? Did he stand in the doorway, journal in hand, and give it to Marcellious?
Balthazar’s smirk deepened.
Marcellious lifted the journal slightly, waving it like a prize. “I’ve got the journal, Master. We can leave now.”
Emily staggered upright, still clutching Rosie against her legs. Her voice was pleading. “Please, don’t do this. You won’t do this if you love me—even a little. We can be a family. We are a family.”
Marcellious let out a derisive laugh. Then, he turned his head and spat into the damp earth.
“I never loved you.” His words were ice, cutting, and final. “It was an act from the moment I met you.”
Emily swayed slightly, her chin quivering. “You… never loved me?”
Marcellious sneered. “Not one bit.” He stepped closer, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “It was all a ruse. You were nothing more than a pawn in the game.” He let out a harsh chuckle. “You don’t even know how to please a man. I had to sneak away to get some real satisfaction.”
The words landed like a slap, shattering something in the air between them.
Emily’s breath hitched—one, two, three sharp gasps.
Then—nothing.
Just silence.
A thick, suffocating silence.
Rage coursed through me like molten fire. I wanted to destroy them both.
Balthazar let out a hideous, gleeful laugh.
“Oh yes, let’s tell them everything,” he drawled, rubbing his hands together. “It’s the perfect time for sharing secrets.” His eyes glowed with wicked delight. “Did you know, Olivia, that Marcellious has worked for me ever since you landed in the Americas? How do you think I always knew where you were? Marcellious was my spy.”
I stiffened as Marcellious stepped forward, his chest puffed out with sickening pride.
“How else would I know about John James? About your marriage? About when Emily and Marcellious tied the knot?” Balthazar’s grin widened, eyes flashing with pure malice. “How do you think I found your campsite? How I razed the village to the ground?” His voice dropped to a purr. “How I ensured Roman was injured just enough forhim to die?”
My breath hitched.
Balthazar beamed at Marcellious like a proud father. “It was all thanks to him. He fed me every detail—your every move, every weakness. You were all blind to him.”
Something inside me snapped.
Marcellious.
It was him.
He had betrayed us. All of us.
He had led Balthazar to Roman, to all of us.
Roman nearly died because of him.
My stomach churned with disgust. He was just as vile as Balthazar, carrying the same twisted darkness in his blood.
