Chapter 14 #3
A cascade of elation rushed through me, washing away my lingering frustration.
I turned to Emily and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“This is incredible news, Em!” I whispered fiercely.
Emily let out a shaky laugh, her eyes glistening as she eased away. “Yes, it is! We get to time travel together!”
But just as quickly, something shifted in her expression. Her smile dimmed.
I noticed.
She was worried.
Was she thinking about time traveling while pregnant?
Before I could ask—
“There’s a catch, ladies,” Malik interjected.
My excitement cooled instantly. “What is it?” I said, pivoting back to him.
He laced his fingers together, tilting his head slightly. “If you, Olivia, die wherever you’ve traveled, Emily is stuck in that time.”
The blood drained from my face.
I reeled back. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Malik confirmed, tapping a lazy rhythm against the desk. “Unless, of course, another Timeborne happens to land in that period and finds the Timebound.” His smirk returned. “Though that’s quite rare since Timebornes tend to keep their identities hidden.”
I swallowed hard.
“That’s where the name Timebound comes from,” Malik continued. “It means being stuck in a particular time and place—bound by it.”
A heavy silence settled between us.
Malik arched a brow.
“So… what about Rosie?” His voice was too smooth, like he was enjoying watching us scramble. “Have you thought this plan through?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Because let me be clear—you cannot assume I’m on childcare duty while you two go gallivanting through time.”
Emily’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh! Oh!” Her eyes widened with horror. “We forgot about Rosie.” She turned to me, clutching my arm. “I’ll stay behind with her, Olivia. You have to go and find the dagger yourself.”
I opened my mouth to protest—
But then, Malik smirked.
That damn secretive smile.
I wanted to roll my eyes, but my frustration simmered too deep.
He was always like this. He was always holding something back, always keeping his cards so close to his chest that it felt like a calculated move even when he did reveal something.
“Rosie will time travel with me,” Malik said.
Emily and I both froze.
“You?” I echoed.
“I am the darkness,” he said as if that explained everything. “I have certain abilities—one of which is the power to time travel with a single person.”
A cold bolt of unease shot through me.
I stared up at him, my gaze like ice.
If Emily weren’t standing beside me—if it were just the two of us—would I finally have the courage to say it?
To tell him exactly how much his secretive nature grated on me?
How his power plays, his carefully veiled truths, made me want to shake the answers out of him.
But deep down, I knew the truth.
It wouldn’t matter.
Malik was too powerful.
He didn’t answer to anyone.
He didn’t change for anyone.
And he never would.
I crossed my arms, forcing my voice to stay level.
“What if Rosie gets sick from time travel?” I challenged. “What if she freaks out? Will you even have a clue what to do?”
Malik’s emerald gaze lifted to mine—cold, unreadable, frost melting frost.
“I think I can manage,” he retorted.
His voice sent a shiver down my spine.
Then, with a dismissive glance toward the door, he added, “Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”
His tone was final.
“Go get some rest, collect whatever you plan to bring, and prepare yourself,” Malik said. “There’s much to be done before we time travel tomorrow.”
A ball of resentment churned inside me, but I forced myself to stay silent.
The moon hung high in the sky, a perfect circle of cold silver. Its light spilled through the window, pooling across the floor like liquid mercury.
Excitement and dread warred inside my chest.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
This time, we wouldn’t just be stepping into the past.
This time, we were going with Malik.
With Rosie.
With Emily.
We made our way down the dim hallway toward our rooms, the hush of the house stretching long and eerie around us.
A shiver ran through me—part thrill, part terror—as I imagined what awaited us in Italy.
What we might find.
Who might we face?
And what would it cost us in the end?
***
The following morning at breakfast, I sat beside Rosie, watching her swirl mashed potatoes into spirals without taking a bite.
I took a breath, forcing my voice into something light and excited.
“Rosie,” I said gently, “we’re going on another trip today.”
She looked up, her little mouth pouting. “What kind of trip?”
“Oh, it’ll be a fun trip,” I assured her. “We’re going far, far away.”
Her small fingers paused over her plate. She studied me, those keen little eyes far too knowing for her age.
“Will it be like the last trip?” she asked. “Where we were always hungry and tired? Will you and Emily be crying again?”
A lump formed in my throat.
I forced a smile. “It will be nothing like that.”
It was a lie.
I had no idea what was waiting for us.
But she seemed to accept it.
With a slight shrug, she scooped up a bit of mashed potatoes with her fingers and popped it into her mouth. “Yum!” she chirped. “Mashed potatoes are good!”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Emily and I spent the rest of the day in quiet preparation, moving through the motions of packing as though we weren’t about to throw ourselves into the unknown.
But we both knew.
What lay ahead would require more than essential supplies or standard equipment.
We had to prepare ourselves.
Psychologically. Emotionally.
We had to steel our minds for whatever awaited us on the other side of time.
So, we spoke a little as we packed.
Each of us was lost in thought.
Each of us was uncertain what the future—or the past—held in store.
As darkness fell, Emily and I stood side by side in the middle of my bedroom.
I felt Emily’s gaze before I even turned to meet it.
We stood there for what felt like an eternity—our eyes locked, neither of us saying a word.
Then, finally, Emily nodded.
“We’re ready,” she said, her voice calm, but I could hear the whisper of uncertainty beneath it.
I studied her face—her normally bright eyes now dimmed with apprehension.
Despite the fear we both shared, her expression had a quiet resilience and a spark of determination that mirrored my own.
I gave her a small, understanding smile.
“We’re ready,” I echoed.
But as the words left my lips, something inside me twisted—because the truth was, I wasn’t sure if we were ready at all.
A sudden unease prickled at my spine.
I turned toward the door, my thoughts shifting to Malik.
Where was he?
Desperate for answers, I scoured the house, checking every room.
But he was nowhere to be found.
A chill of dread curled through me.
I raced upstairs, my pulse pounding as I threw open the door to his office.
Empty.
I spun on my heel and stormed into his bedroom.
Nothing.
My breath quickened.
Something wasn’t right.
Pushing past the growing sense of worry, I crossed the dimly lit room and stepped onto his balcony.
The cold air hit me like a slap.
The balcony stretched before me, offering a sweeping view of the mountainside and the valley below.
Today had been cloudy, but there had been no rain, so I could see for miles.
I gripped the iron railing and viewed the endless sea of trees, their bare branches cradling clusters of mistletoe.
The distant hills were blue-gray, the color of winter’s edge.
Above them, the sky stretched endlessly and vast, with orange, peach, pink, and deep violet—a sunset painted in fire and ice.
A fresh scent hovered in the air, the ghost of yesterday’s storm.
I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with the crisp mountain air.
And despite the nervousness curling in my gut…
I was thankful for Malik’s care since our arrival.
He truly lived in a place of beauty, perched atop his mountain home, like a king surveying his domain. From here, he could watch the world below, safe in his solitude, untouched by time.
Yet I couldn’t shake the questions gnawing at me.
Why had he allowed Marcellious to enter his home and steal the journal?
Was it truly as unimportant as he claimed?
Or had Marcellious found a blind spot in Malik’s defenses?
I couldn’t fathom Malik being unaware of anything, let alone someone as lowly and devious as Marcellious.
The air shifted.
A presence curled around me, unseen but palpable, like a warm gust billowing from the furnace.
Malik.
I shivered as he approached, though not from the cold.
His hands landed on my upper arms—warm, grounding, steadfast.
“Nothing to worry about when you go to Italy,” he murmured.
I spun around, my pulse kicking up.
“How can you be so sure?” I demanded.
We stood inches apart, his touch still lingering on my skin.
But this time, the pull—that overwhelming force that once threatened to devour me—wasn’t there.
Not the same way.
Malik smiled, easy, unbothered. “Stay by my side, and all will be well.”
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, my insides coiling at the thought of catapulting into ancient Italy. Would it be as brutal as Roman’s time? Would we be walking into blood and ruin?
Still, Malik only watched me, his gaze knowing.
“All you have to do, love,” he said softly, “is follow my instructions.”
A small pause.
Then—
“Soon, you’ll be reunited with Roman.”
Malik’s smile faded.
I hesitated before finally saying, “Malik… about what happened yesterday between us—”
“It will never happen again,” he said abruptly, cutting me off.
His hands clasped behind his back, his posture impossibly rigid.
“I do not wish to hurt you or Roman again,” he continued, his voice calm—too calm. “Roman is your husband, and I have to honor that.”
He inhaled, his gaze distant, as if looking through me rather than at me.
“If I were to have a wife,” he said, “and the darkness tried to seduce her, I would be angry.” His jaw tightened. “I sometimes… lose myself and forget I cannot have you, Olivia.”
His voice dipped, just slightly, like a whisper of something unsaid.
Then, with finality, he straightened.
“You and Roman belong with each other. And I will never make the same mistake again.”
I stared at him.
There was something in his tone—something so absolute, yet lined with something else… regret? Resignation?
I had no idea what Malik was truly thinking.
But his apology sounded sincere.
And, in his twisted way, he seemed to care about me and Roman.
A war raged inside me—one I refused to name.
Relief coursed through me.
But so did a strange, sharp pang of disappointment.
I felt torn—utterly torn—between my love and loyalty to my husband and this dangerous, fleeting pull toward Malik.
It was like standing between a furnace and a bonfire.
One was steady, unwavering, mine.
The other was wild, consuming, forbidden.
I huffed out a breath, pushing the thoughts away.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice even though my insides were twisted.
Malik studied me, his emerald gaze searching.
Then—almost reverently—he reached out, his fingertip tracing a featherlight path down my cheek.
A shiver licked down my spine.
“I know one thing,” Malik murmured.
“When you get to Italy… your life will never be the same.”
A storm raged inside me, a churning mix of emotions I couldn’t untangle—anticipation, fear, the ghost of something unspoken between us.
We stood silently, the air thick with everything we weren’t saying.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us let go.
Then, suddenly, Malik tore his gaze from mine, his head snapping toward the window.
His entire body went rigid.
“She’s here,” he muttered, his voice low with warning.
Outside, the full moon climbed in the sky, its silver light stretching across the landscape like a menacing specter.
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering.
Was I truly ready to do this? To travel through time once more?
But before I could let the fear take hold, a small, unexpected smile curved my lips.
Maybe it was recklessness.
Maybe it was defiance.
Or maybe I was finally embracing the chaos of my existence.
I lifted my chin, meeting Malik’s gaze head-on.
“Yes, Malik,” I said, my voice clear. “Let’s go.”