But I did stop.
Because I knew Balthazar, and Balthazar always tested me.
This was no disappearance. This was a game.
And I was done playing by his rules.
The house had fallen eerily still, save for the metallic scent of blood thickening. The corpses of my family lay strewn across the floor like discarded dolls—silent, useless, forgotten.
My pulse thrummed in my ears, the reality crashing in around me.
I thought that craving his violence… being aroused by his killings… made us equals.
But I was wrong.
He was still holding the reins.
And that needed to change.
I scanned the room again, taking in the carnage, the grotesque artwork of Balthazar’s wrath. And then a single thought rooted itself in my mind?—
What will they say when they find me here—alive, untouched, surrounded by corpses?
They’d assume I helped him, that I was his accomplice.
And they wouldn’t be wrong.
But I won’t be caught.
An idea sparked and formed in the dark. Dangerous. Desperate. Delicious.
What if I disappear?
What will Balthazar do then? Will he miss me? Will he hunt me down like prey?
Would that excite him?
Or would it finally drive him mad?
I chewed at my lip, adrenaline surging through my veins as a plan formed—wicked and beautiful.
I’d go to Signor Zampa.
Tell him I was in danger. That Balthazar murdered my family and would kill me next.
I would cry. I would shake. I would bleed if I had to.
I’d make him believe me.
Make him protect me.
And then—I’ll beg him to teach me how to time travel.
If Balthazar wanted to play games, he had no idea what I could do.
Not yet.
I gathered what I needed, wiping Balthazar’s scent from my lips, and stepped toward the door with a new rhythm in my stride.
