“This means Emily is my daughter. I’m such a fool.”
The words hung heavy in the air. My gaze locked onto his, and realization settled over me. He was right. Emily had his eyes—the same piercing hue and bone structure. But she wasn’t like him. She was light where he was a shadow, kind where he was cruel.
I was so fucked.
The piece of paper slipped from his fingers, fluttering to the floor. Then, as if possessed by a sudden, unstoppable force, Balthazar surged.
“I must return and find her—no matter the cost. I will do whatever it takes to prove my sincerity, to show her my loyalty. She’d be the best daughter any father could hope for—far more than my fool of a son ever could be. I’ll make it right—one way or another.”
A dangerous fire burned in his voice.
“I’m so angry that I didn’t know. I nearly burned her alive. I caused her so much pain.” He let out a shuddering breath, then snarled toward the heavens. “Damn you, Alina, for keeping this from me!”
I barely heard him. My mind reeled.
I was married to the daughter of the most potent darkness on earth.
And she wanted nothing to do with me.
If only I could tell her the truth…
Balthazar paced erratically, his mind spinning. Then, passing by the sofa, he snatched up the journal again, flipping through its brittle pages with feverish intensity.
His expression darkened. “What’s this? Alina found the Sun Dagger and gave it to that fool of a scholar, Giovanni Zampa.” He thumbed through more pages, his eyes darting across the words. “And Malik had a child? Good god, the secrets in here…”
His voice trailed off, and he turned to me.
His lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer.
And his eyes?—
His eyes gleamed red.
Oh, yes—the demon was back.
“Do you have a plan?”
“Yes,” Balthazar snapped, already striding from the room.
I had to hurry to catch up. “Where are you going?”
“We are going to Italy. I must find the dagger, my daughter, and reclaim control before it is too late.”
We raced down the stairs, two at a time.
Pain still lingered in my right leg, and Balthazar’s stomach wound couldn’t have fully healed. But a demon with a mission was a monster on the move.
Outside, beneath the full moon, we each drew our daggers. Minutes later, our palms were slick with blood, the scripture hanging from our lips like an incantation of fate.
The world imploded.
And then, we were hurtling through dimensions.
When we emerged, it was midday, the golden sun drenching us in heat. I blinked against the brightness, taking in the sprawling countryside—olive trees, vineyards, and sun-warmed earth.
This was Italy.
Balthazar laughed—a deep, triumphant sound—as he flung his arms wide. “Ah, Sicily! The place where my love and I first met.” His voice rang with something both wistful and unhinged. “Come, Marcellious. My villa is right over there.”
