Desperate for answers, I scoured the house, checking every room.
But he was nowhere to be found.
A chill of dread curled through me.
I raced upstairs, my pulse pounding as I threw open the door to his office.
Empty.
I spun on my heel and stormed into his bedroom.
Nothing.
My breath quickened.
Something wasn’t right.
Pushing past the growing sense of worry, I crossed the dimly lit room and stepped onto his balcony.
The cold air hit me like a slap.
The balcony stretched before me, offering a sweeping view of the mountainside and the valley below.
Today had been cloudy, but there had been no rain, so I could see for miles.
I gripped the iron railing and viewed the endless sea of trees, their bare branches cradling clusters of mistletoe.
The distant hills were blue-gray, the color of winter’s edge.
Above them, the sky stretched endlessly and vast, with orange, peach, pink, and deep violet—a sunset painted in fire and ice.
A fresh scent hovered in the air, the ghost of yesterday’s storm.
I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the crisp mountain air.
And despite the nervousness curling in my gut…
I was thankful for Malik’s care since our arrival.
He truly lived in a place of beauty, perched atop his mountain home, like a king surveying his domain. From here, he could watch the world below, safe in his solitude, untouched by time.
Yet I couldn’t shake the questions gnawing at me.
Why had he allowed Marcellious to enter his home and steal the journal?
Was it truly as unimportant as he claimed?
Or had Marcellious found a blind spot in Malik’s defenses?
I couldn’t fathom Malik being unaware of anything, let alone someone as lowly and devious as Marcellious.
The air shifted.
A presence curled around me, unseen but palpable, like a warm gust billowing from the furnace.
Malik.
I shivered as he approached, though not from the cold.
