I stood in the doorway, panting, my chest rising and falling as I took in the nursery around me.
The walls were draped in lavish tapestries—idyllic countrysides and serene skies—lies stitched into silk. The bedding was trimmed in delicate lace and silver-thread embroidery. Rich, dark wood furniture gleamed under the faint glow of the lantern, and beneath my feet, a Persian rug muffled the tension crackling in the air. In the center of the room stood an ornate cradle, draped in a blanket woven with feathers and strands of gold. Stuffed animals ringed its base like silent sentries. A row of painted wooden blocks sat untouched on the windowsill, frozen in perfect stillness.
It was the portrait of peace.
But inside me, there was only chaos.
“All I ask,” I whispered, barely able to speak through the tightness in my throat, “is that you protect my daughter.”
Malik’s face twisted, his eyes flashing like storm light. “I will not protect your daughter! I have my own to protect!”
His fury throbbed through the room like a pulse, daring me to push him further.
Then came the sneer. The dagger disguised as words.
“Admit it,” he said, voice dripping venom, “you still burn for Balthazar. You can’t stand the thought of your daughter meeting him, of beingclaimedby him. You’re terrified he’ll love her more than he ever loved you. He’ll see in her what he never truly saw in you.”
He stepped closer, eyes locked on mine. “Your fear is so consuming, you’dkillyour child to keep her from him. That’s what makes you weak, Alina. You don’t want to protect her—you want toownher. Just like he owned you.”
His words landed like a slap, and I staggered back, breath caught in my throat. How could he know the one thing I had never dared say aloud?
“You’re wrong, Malik,” I gasped. “I love my daughter. That’swhyI came here. That’s why I brought you this.” I held out the journal. “You’re the only one I trust to keep her safe. If anything happens to me… I need you to protect her from him.”
Malik gently laid the sleeping child into her cradle, brushing a tender hand over her brow. Then he turned to me, advancing with slow, deliberate steps, forcing me back with every inch of his presence. His voice rumbled low, like distant thunder rolling across a darkened sky.
“You always run, Alina. You carry within you the power to teach your daughter how to end Balthazar’s reign—but instead, you twist, manipulate, and use the people around you. You take, and take, and take.”
My rage erupted like wildfire.
“No.You’rethe coward, Malik. You hide behind your fantasy of peace while the rest of us bleed. You had a chance to stop him and chose comfort over courage. You want a quiet life while the world burns? Fine. But don’t pretend you’re innocent while our children are slaughtered!”
He flinched, exhaled, shoulders sagging with the weight of something heavier than guilt.
“Go find someone else to save you,” he muttered. “I’m done.”
I stared at him for one last beat, then spun on my heel, furypulsing hot through my veins. At the threshold, I turned my head just enough to speak.
“We’ll see each other again, Malik. Dead or alive.”
Hot tears blurred my vision as I walked away, but I didn’t let them fall until the forest swallowed me. I found cover in the nearby woods, heart thudding, breath shallow, watching his home give way to silence and shadow.
With the last light snuffed out, I crept back. Careful. Quiet.
I slid my journal through the baby’s open window, tucking it beneath her blanket like a prayer, a final plea.
It wasn’t the ending I wanted. But it was the only one I had.
My mission was complete.
Broken-hearted and filled with dread, I turned and disappeared into the night—back to Jack and Olivia, back to whatever fate was waiting for me next.
Chapter 45
Alina
When I returned to the States, Olivia was ten—a little girl teetering on the edge of womanhood, eyes too wise for her age. She looked at me the moment I stepped through the door, and everything stopped.
Her gaze burned through me, not with innocence, but with something more unsettling—recognition. She didn’t just see me. Shereadme. Piece by piece, layer by layer, she dismantled the woman who stood before her. And for a terrifying heartbeat, I thought she saw it all—the blood on my hands, the betrayal in my heart.
