Chapter 8
Roman
My head throbbed as I paced back and forth across Jack’s kitchen.
I was at a dead end.
No leads. No clues. No Tristan.
Frustration and helplessness twisted inside me so tightly I thought I might snap.
“Tristan must be located. There has to be something—an avenue you two missed.” I sounded desperate as I turned to Lee, who sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee.
As if we weren’t in a crisis.
Beyond him, through the open window, the trees stretched their leaves toward the sun, oblivious to my turmoil. Birds rustled in the branches, chirping their careless melodies while my patience burned to ash.
Lee set his mug down and stroked his chin, unhurried. “I used to be able to track him. He’s a predictable guy. I could find him anywhere.”
He took another long sip of coffee. “But now? Gone. No phone. No trace.”
He shook his head, his gaze distant.
“He was always a bit odd,” he admitted. “When Olivia started dating him, Jack and I thought he was well-mannered. Polite. But still a mystery. His mom had died, his dad was missing… He seemed lost—like he was searching for something none of us could give him.”
Lee rapped his knuckles against the placemat, his eyes darkening with thought.
My hands shot into the air. “How could you let your daughter fall in love with a man you knew nothing about?”
Lee shrugged, unbothered by my outburst. “We knew some things.”
He leaned back, his tone thoughtful. “Tristan had a good job at the hospital. He adored Olivia—doted on her like she was the sun to his moon. What parent or caregiver would argue with that?”
He tipped back his cup, draining the last of his coffee. A satisfied “Ah” left his lips as he set the mug down.
“Tristan was polite. Mild-mannered.” His forehead creased, as something unsure crossed his face. “But… there was something off about him.”
I stilled. “What do you mean?”
Lee exhaled, fingers drumming against the table.
“He was too perfect,” Lee explained. “Like every word, every action was practiced—like he was on stage, performing a role he had rehearsed a thousand times.”
A chill crawled down my spine.
“Then, as the relationship between him and Olivia continued, Jack and I started seeing the cracks. His perfect demeanor felt more like a mask—something hiding dangerous machinations beneath the surface.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then why didn’t you stop Olivia from seeing him?”
Lee’s salt-and-pepper eyebrow arched. “You must’ve seen how stubborn Olivia can be.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh, raking my hand through my hair. “God, have I. Olivia digs her heels in, and once she does, there’s no moving her.”
Lee smirked, nodding. “That’s Olivia.”
Pushing off his chair, he strode to the sink, rinsing out his empty mug before setting it down. Then, he turned, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.
“The day she traveled, Jack finally told her the truth—about who she was… and that he believed Tristan was dangerous.”
A heavy silence stretched between us.
Lee exhaled, shaking his head. “Jack and I knew something was wrong. We felt it in our gut.”
I could already guess what came next.
“She didn’t believe him,” I said flatly.
Lee let out a heavy sigh. “No. She accused her father of jealousy. And after that? Everything went downhill.”
I clenched my jaw, trying to tame my frustration. This was getting us nowhere.
I dropped into a chair, forcing myself to think instead of rage. “Where have you looked?” I asked, willing my temper to stay in check. “We can retrace your steps. Maybe I’ll see something you missed.”
Lee pushed off the counter, rubbing his hands together. “Yeah… I don’t know. We’ve looked everywhere.”
Then, his brow furrowed slightly.
“But maybe…” He hesitated. “Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong.”
I lifted a brow. “How so?”
He nodded as if piecing something together. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should start over. We can head to Olivia’s apartment—see if anything jumps out.”
I shot to my feet, eager to finally do something besides pace around this kitchen.
But before I reached the front door, I hesitated.
“There’s something else,” I admitted.
Lee tilted his head. “Yeah?”
I turned to him, exhaling.
“There’s something I could use your advice on.”
“Shoot,” Lee said.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
Lee chuckled. “It’s a phrase. When you say ‘shoot,’ it means go ahead, say what you want.”
I hesitated, then exhaled. “I’ve been having these dreams… these nightmares.”
My fingers instinctively reached for my neck, kneading the tension.
“They started when Olivia and I got married,” I admitted.
Lee stood a few feet away now, arms crossed, his eyes attentive.
“The dreams are so vivid, so real… They’re always the same or variations of the same.”
Lee nodded. “Tell me. Describe them.”
I barely heard him. I was already sinking—falling—into the quicksand of those nightmares.
I leaned against the wall, pressing my palms against it, bracing myself for the memory.
“In the dream, I have a family,” I murmured. “A wife. Children. I’m happy—content in a way I can’t even describe.”
I swallowed hard.
“Sometimes, I’m racing through the woods on horseback… with Malik.” My voice dropped. “We ride side by side like brothers. And even though we aren’t—not in the biological sense—there’s this… bond. Something deep. Something that ties us together.”
I dragged a hand through my hair, the next part of the dream solidifying like a vision.
“Other times, we’re hunting together. We move as one—our arrows poised, our breath in sync. We share the exultation of the kill, the thrill of the hunt.”
I narrowed my eyes as the next scene shuddered through me.
“And then I see smoke.”
My voice lowered to a rasp.
“It fills the air, thick, choking. It clogs my throat, my nose, my lungs.”
The dream rushed forward in my mind, swallowing me whole.
“When the smoke clears, I see it—my house.
“My children.
“My beautiful wife.
“They’re burning.
“Running toward me, their bodies engulfed by flames.
“Whenever I have the nightmare, I wake up drenched in sweat, tangled in the bedding. Sometimes, I wake up screaming.”
Silence.
Then, softly—“Roman…”
Lee’s voice reached me, pulling me back.
But I wasn’t done.
“There are always bad people,” I said, still trapped in the nightmare’s grip. “Always someone hunting me. Hunting them.”
I let out a ragged breath. “And I can never stop it.”
I looked at Lee then, my voice strained.
“I don’t understand it,” I admitted. “Something changed when your brother bound us.”
I shook my head, frustrated. “I always felt Olivia was my soulmate, but after the marriage ceremony, the bond became… deeper. More intense. Like something more was woven into it.”
I swallowed hard.
“Like something… older.”
I met Lee’s gaze, forcing myself to return to the present—to this house, this moment, where things were safe.
But the nightmares remained, curling around the edges of my mind like unseen shadows.
“They scare me,” I admitted. My voice was quieter now, rough around the edges. “Is this something that will come to pass? Or has it already happened?”
A heavy silence stretched between us.
Then, Lee broke the moment, exhaling as if shaking off an unseen weight.
“These dreams can’t be figured out in a single moment,” he said firmly. “Let’s set them aside and focus on finding Tristan. But don’t worry—we’ll decipher the meaning of your visions.”
His tone was reassuring. “Dreams are mysteries to unfold. They’re seldom literal.” He met my gaze again, voice soft but insistent. “Don’t worry.”
I clung to his words as I stepped away from the wall.
Outside, I followed Lee as he strode toward a strange-looking metal contraption.
I frowned.
It resembled a cart, but there were no harnesses. No oxen. No horses.
“Will we be taking that to look for Tristan?” I asked, pointing at the metal as my boots crunched against the gravel.
“That’s correct,” Lee said.
I glanced around, searching. “Where are your horses?”
Lee chuckled. “There are no horses, Roman.”
I turned in a circle, my frown deepening. “Oxen, then?”
“Nope,” Lee smirked, fishing a small silver key from his pocket. “There’s what’s called an engine inside that powers the SUV.”
He pressed something on the key, and the machine chirped.
I was startled, instinctively reaching for my dagger.
“What is that?” I demanded.
Lee grinned. “It’s called an SUV.”
I eyed the beast warily. “And what does SUV mean?”
Lee chuckled. “It stands for Sports Utility Vehicle. Get in. Your side is open.” He slid into the driver’s seat with ease.
I mulled over those three words as I cautiously approached the door.
I knew sports—Roman games were filled with them.
From my scattered French studies, I understood utility meant useful and véhicule meant to carry.
This was a useful carrying device that involved sports.
…That made no sense.
But I had seen stranger things.
I opened the door and eased onto the seat.
The interior was even more bizarre—a maze of knobs, dials, and buttons, a front panel covered in symbols and numbers.
Lee grinned as he pressed one of them.
The beast beneath us rumbled to life.
I stiffened.
“I remember what it was like to time travel to the 21st century,” Lee said, watching my reaction. “It can be… bewildering.”
That was an understatement.
Suddenly, the vehicle lit up—a deafening roar erupting from deep within its belly.
I gripped the door handle, my pulse pounding.
“Easy, Roman.” Lee chuckled. “That’s the engine of the Jeep.”
I forced myself to breathe and repeated the word. “Jeep.”
What in the name of the gods was a Jeep?
Lee gestured in a loose circle. “We’re sitting in an SUV. Think of it like a wagon. But instead of a horse, there’s an engine powering it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And Jeep means what, exactly?”
“It’s just a name,” he explained. “The company that built it is called Chrysler. And Chrysler calls this vehicle a Jeep. Nothing more.”