What if it’s bonded to its owner?
What if it attempts to harm me?
The thoughts crawled through my mind, leaving an icy trail.
I exhaled sharply, shaking off the ridiculous notion.
I am not afraid of a damned knife.
Jaw tightening, I reached out, fingers brushing over the hilt.
Nothing happened.
No jolt of dark energy, searing pain, or invisible force trying to stop me.
Only exhilaration.
A triumphant rush flooded my veins as I curled my fingers around the dagger’s smooth, bone-white handle and lifted it from its prison.
I had done it.
I had found the bastard’s blade.
And Balthazar?
He would never see it coming.
Sliding the dagger into the sheath at my waist, I forced it next to my knife, the cold steel pressing against my skin like a silent promise.
I needed to get out. Now.
Hurrying back upstairs, I returned the box to its exact position on theshelf, every movement calculated precisely. If luck were on my side, it would be a while before Balthazar realized his sacred dagger was missing—and by then, I would be long gone.
The only thing on my mind was getting to Malik’s and restoring my life.
I turned for the stairs?—
And then?—
The front door exploded open.
Fuck.
He was back.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I shrank into the shadows, pressing myself against the upper banister, eyes locked on the unfolding scene below.
Balthazar strode inside, hauling a younger man by the ear and shoving him onto the sofa I had just vacated.
I held my breath.
The younger man winced, rubbing his ear. Blood smeared his face and arms, his dark clothing torn and ragged as if he had barely survived a fight.
Balthazar grabbed the man’s wrist, his lips muttering a strange incantation. His voice was thick with something ancient. The air vibrated, and the walls seemed to shudder as if recoiling from his power.
Then—silence.
When Balthazar released him, the young man stared in awe at his arm, flexing his fingers like he couldn’t believe what he saw.
