But an icy chill cascaded down my spine before we could take a step.
Something was wrong.
I looked toward the entrance.
Two figures stepped inside, their presence suffocating the room like death descending over a battlefield.
Balthazar.
Tristan.
They prowled forward, their eyes fixed on us.
Marcellious stiffened beside me.
“Fuck,” he muttered, stepping back between two drunken patrons as if their presence could shield him.
Balthazar’s eyes locked onto Costa and me, his mouth curving into a dangerous smile.
“My, my, my,” he crooned, his voice honeyed with malice. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Then his gaze floated past me, landing on Marcellious.
The moment stretched, thick as blood.
And then?—
“You!”
The tavern went silent as Balthazar’s voice turned to a venomous hiss.
His expression twisted with fury.
“You fucking bastard.”
The air turned electric with his rage.
“You little bitch.”
Patrons froze in place, watching the unfolding scene with wary curiosity.
Balthazar’s hand clenched at his side, fingers twitching as if itching to wrap around Marcellious’ throat.
“You fucking betrayed me.”
Chapter 33
Roman
As I stood near the wall in the thick, smoke-laden pub, my entire body tingled with tension.
Not only were we in the company of Raul Costa, the deranged Timehunter, but now Balthazar—the ultimate evil—had joined the fray.
This day had gone from bad to hellish in less than an hour.
Marcellious shivered like a man caught in a blizzard, his eyes locked on Balthazar. He lingered near a cluster of bar patrons, who glanced at us with half-hearted curiosity, more interested in their drinks than the potential bloodbath brewing in their midst.
Balthazar smirked, his white teeth glinting like a predator about to pounce.
