And that’s when I saw him.
A boy, young, maybe fourteen, cowered in the corner of the room beyond, frozen in terror. His wide eyes met mine, full of fear.
I didn’t flinch.
I smiled.
A slow, cruel thing.
My teeth bared like a predator’s.
Let the fear begin.
Costa lunged for the door, trying to slam it shut.
Bang—my palm crashed against the wood, forcing it back open with a jarring thud that echoed through the room like a gunshot. A rush of dread swept in behind me like a tide.
Costa straightened, puffing himself up, trying to intimidate me with his size and aura. His glare was sharp enough to cut steel, but I didn’t blink.
“Lord Balthazar,” he said. “So, we meet at last. If I knew you were coming, I would’ve arranged a banquet worthy of your… temperament.”
I snarled, my voice a guttural rasp. “Shut the fuck up. You Timehunters are all the same—cowards hiding behind titles and poison.”
Costa raised an eyebrow, amused. That infuriating calm—so smug, so superior.
I lunged at him, trying to force my way past into the room. But he held his ground like a fucking mountain, unmoving. A wall of flesh and arrogance.
I took a step back, fists shaking with fury. “Where the fuck is Alina?”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
“Alina?” he repeated, mock confusion painting his voice. “I’m afraid I don’t?—”
I grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him aside. He crashed against the wall with a grunt as I tore into the room, boots pounding like war drums.
My gaze darted across the space, the bed, the wardrobe, and the shadows.
She had to be here.
The boy shrank into the corner, his back plastered to the wall, shaking like a leaf in a storm.
“Is she in the fucking armoire?” I snarled, ripping the doors open, the hinges groaning in protest. The house quaked beneath my fury, the floorboards creaking as if they, too, feared what was coming.
Someone was going to bleed for this.
The boy whimpered, a sound so shrill it grated. Costa surged forward, throwing himself before the kid, arms out like a shield.
“Where is she?” I roared, eyes wild. “Where the fuck is Alina?”
“I don’t have her!” Costa’s voice broke. “Why would you think she came here?”
With a snarl, I lunged and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, lifting him like he weighed nothing. His boots kicked against the floor, eyes bulging, breath strangled in his throat.
“Put me down! Alfonso, run!”
The boy scrambled away, trying to flee—but I vanished, reappearing in front of the door like a shadow made flesh. I slammed it shut with a deafening crack before he could escape.
Alfonso screamed, high and panicked.
