Lee slammed my bleeding hand onto the table, grounding me, but the fire inside me roared.
“What is it?” Jack whispered, his voice urgent.
I couldn’t speak.
Icouldn’t breathe.
The vision wavered, revealing Olivia again, slumped inside the teepee. But this time, she wasn't just grieving—she was broken.
Emily knelt beside her, murmuring words Olivia could barely hear through the ringing in her ears.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said gently. “You lost the baby.”
Olivia clutched her abdomen, a silent scream twisting her face before the sobs tore free, raw and uncontrollable.
Her sorrow crashed into me like a tidal wave, brutal and unrelenting.
No.
Red-hot rage ignited in my veins, consuming every part of me. Balthazar had taken everything. My child. My future. Myfamily.
I wanted to kill him.
I wanted tobreakhim.
To wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the life from him until he felt even afractionof the pain he had inflicted.
My head fell back, and a guttural bellow ripped from my chest—a primal sound of agony.
Pain slashed through me, jagged and merciless.
“Stay with us, son,” Lee urged, gripping my wrist. “Youcando this. Olivia needs to feel this connection.”
Tears streamed down my face, hot and persistent. My breath came in broken gasps.
I had never felt so powerless.
I’d never felt suchshame—shame at my tears, my weakness, my inability to protect my wife.
I had failed her.
The blade darkened, shadows swallowing its glow. I had to strain through the gloom to see the next vision. It was as if I were peering through Olivia’s very soul—through her grief.
I watched, helpless, as my wife—my strong, unbreakable Olivia—sat rocking back and forth, her body gaunt, her eyes vacant. She looked as though she had surrendered to fate, to loss, to the cruel hands that had ripped everything from her.
A cold, murderous rage unfurled inside me. The desire to kill Balthazar roared through my veins, burning away my sorrow until only white-hot fury remained.
Then the vision shifted, softening the wild pounding in my ears.
A man stood beside Olivia, offering comfort.
Malik.
Curiosity twisted through my chest, tangled with something I couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. But why washethe one reassuring my wife?
The image blurred before I could understand it, reshaping into something new.
A quaint cottage.
