But this time, I wouldn’t be alone.
The rest of the day was spent practicing the sacred scripture, Lee patiently guiding me through each syllable, ensuring I committed every word to memory.
He also taught me the translation, breaking it down so I could understand the meaning woven within.
“Moon, protector of night, I call upon you to unleash the light and guide me through the dark. Allow the great sun to dance around you with love and passion. Together, open your gates and grant me the power to travel through time and space like the shadows of the night.”
The words were beautiful—like a hidden message tucked within their cadence, something sacred, something powerful.
As I recited them, flashes of memories struck me—images of Olivia, fragments of conversations I could barely grasp, and echoes of Malik from my recurring dreams.
I faltered, my mind momentarily thrown into chaos.
“Lee,” I finally said around midday, my voice quieter than before. “You never said anything about my recurring dreams. But today, they’ve been everywhere—glimpses of them keep flashing in my mind.”
Clouds of emotion flickered across Lee’s face. He hesitated for a moment before answering.
“I cannot offer you the answers you seek,” he admitted. “But I am certain that Italy can.”
I studied him for a long beat but didn’t bother arguing. I’d learned enough about Lee to know when pushing for more answers was pointless.
He would reveal things in his own time.
Finally, as the sun slid from the sky, I was ready to depart.
I hauled Tristan’s sorry ass up the basement stairs, ensuring his arms were still bound.
For extra security, I took a length of rope—the same one used to tie him to the chair—and fastened our wrists together.
I didn’t trust him. Not for a damn second.
Jack stood waiting at the top of the stairs, his face tight with concern.
His eyes scanned over me once, then flicked to the supplies.
“Do you have everything?” he asked.
I patted the shoulder strap of my rucksack—another one of Jack’s so-called period pieces from eBay.
“Well,” I said, my throat clotted with emotion as I looked at Jack.
Jack swallowed hard. “Well,” he echoed, his eyes glistening. Then, softly, “Godspeed to you.”
I nodded, wiping at my damp eyes.
Before I could react, Jack threw his arms around me, gripping me fiercely.
“I’m so glad Olivia has you, Roman,” he murmured, his voice rough. “You’re a good, good man.”
He pulled back just enough to slide something into my jacket pocket, giving it a firm pat.
“Make sure Olivia sees this,” he said. His gaze was steady. Serious. “And take care of her, all right?”
A snort broke the moment.
Tristan.
I turned, just in time to backhand him across the face.
