“Malik, you’re hurting me,” I gasped. “I know you don’t mean this. The darkness inside you is controlling you. Please—stop.”
I fought to focus on the man I knew, not the abyss swallowing him whole.
“We have this inexplicable bond,” I pleaded, my breath growing shallow.
His grip remained unyielding, his gaze vast and vacant, as though he had drifted a million miles away. His fingers, like iron bands, crushed the breath from my lungs, his strength terrifying, unnatural.
My vision blurred. My pulse weakened.
“Malik, stop,” I wheezed, forcing the words out before I lost the ability to speak. “This isn’t you. It’s the monster inside you. I know you can feel me—feel my pain.”
Something flickered behind his eyes. Hesitation.
His grip loosened slightly.
“Olivia?” His voice was hoarse, uncertain, as though he were waking from a nightmare.
I swallowed hard. “That’s right. It’s me. Olivia.”
A deep furrow formed between his brows as he stared at me, confusion cracking through the fury. Then, suddenly, his expression twisted.
Malik turned away from me, his whole body going rigid. His breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, his muscles coiled like a beast on the brink of snapping.
Then, his gaze locked onto Vincenzo.
And the darkness surged back.
“You!” Malik roared, his voice a force of nature, shaking the air.
With the ferocity of a panther striking from the shadows, he lunged.
Vincenzo had no time to react.
Malik slammed Vincenzo to the ground, straddling him, his hands clamping around his throat like a steel vice.
Vincenzo thrashed, his eyes bulging in terror. His gasps turned into horrible, strangled wheezes as Malik bore down, his grip tightening.
Then—suddenly—Malik eased up, just enough for Vincenzo to suck in a ragged breath.
“How can I find Costa?” Malik’s voice was low, lethal.
Vincenzo coughed, one hand clutching his throat. “He… he is hosting his annual masquerade, my lord. You can find him there. He’ll probably have the blade on his person.”
Malik lowered himself until his face was mere inches from Vincenzo’s. He grasped the man’s jaw, his fingernails biting into the skin, his grip a silent promise of violence.
“If you ever speak of this incident,” Malik whispered, “you won’t live to see another day.”
Vincenzo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to turn away, but Malik held him firm.
“I won’t ever speak of it,” he croaked.
Malik gave a satisfied nod. “Good.” With one last shake of Vincenzo’s jaw, he was gone.
I barely had time to register his movement before I felt his presence beside me, his grip firm as he ushered me toward the carriage.
I gasped. Malik’s ability to move through time and space so effortlessly unnerved me.
I clambered onto the carriage seat beside him, my body rigid, my pulse still erratic.
