And I had never felt so powerless.
Chapter 22
Roman
Tearing my gaze away from the macabre sight of Costa’s burning estate, I tucked Olivia tighter against my side in the back of the carriage. My eyes searched the darkness for solace, for anything to erase the vision of crimson blood dripping from the walls, of gut-wrenching screams still ringing in my ears.
But there was no escape.
Even as we pulled away, disgust curdled in my stomach. Not even my years as a gladiator, soaked in the brutality of the arena, had prepared me for the monstrous horror of tonight.
The thunder of the horses’ hooves rattled through my bones as we rounded a bend in the road?—
—and the burning estate came into view again.
Costa’s once-elegant villa blazed like a vision from hell, flames devouring the structure in greedy tongues of orange and red.
The cries of the partygoers—so immersed in the throes of pleasure only an hour ago—had transformed into screams of agony.
They were burning alive.
A wave of nausea gripped me. Even with my ability to withstand and witness the darkest acts of torture and violence, I could not stomach the sheer agony all around me.
“Oh, God,” Olivia sobbed, pressing deeper into my side.
I wrapped my arms around her trembling frame. “Shh, my love. We’re safe.”
“Are we?” she wailed. “Are we ever safe when that madman is around?”
I pulled her even closer as if my arms alone could shield her from the nightmares of that night.
Across from us, Count Montego sat stiffly in the back of the coach. His face was pale, and the corners of his eyes creased with concern. He stared out the window at the smoke-choked sky, his silence stretched thin, as though still grappling with the horror he had witnessed.
“Such a tragedy,” he murmured at last, shaking his head. “I’m appalled that such a thing could occur.”
I studied him carefully. How much did he know about Balthazar? Raul had spoken of him like an old acquaintance.
“Indeed,” I said neutrally, watching Montego’s fingers curl tightly against his lap.
The count exhaled, his gaze still locked on the burning ruins in the distance. “Do you think…” He hesitated, carefully choosing his words. “Do you think the fire dancers could have started the blaze? Through their careless actions? The way they were tossing those batons…” He shook his head as if trying to rationalize the night’s chaos. “Anything could have happened.”
And there was my answer.
He knew nothing.
Nothing of the treachery Balthazar was capable of.
Nothing of the darkness that walked among us tonight.
“Perhaps,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “Whatever the cause, it’s a horrifying tragedy.”
I rubbed Olivia’s arm, hoping to soothe her tremors.
She only buried her face deeper into my shoulder, her cries muffled against the fabric of my coat.
The carriage fell silent except for the occasional sniffle and the rhythmic pounding of the horses’ hooves against the road.
Then, the count shifted. “Your manservant… where is he? Did the flames consume him in a torturous death?” His shoulders tensed up to his ears. “What a horrific fate.”
