Chapter 18
Olivia
Since returning from Vincenzo Zampa’s house, Malik’s demeanor toward me had been frigid.
The frostbite of his indifference clung to my skin, and though I tried to temper my ire, I was still struggling to control my anger.
He had unleashed his darkness against me, and I wasn’t sure if I would ever forgive him for it.
My thoughts raced, a mixture of resentment and many emotions, as I entertained ways to get back at him. But revenge wasn’t the answer. I knew that.
Despite my seething hatred, there were moments—fleeting but undeniable—when my mind strayed to my husband.
The turmoil inside me was relentless, a cacophony of emotions I couldn’t quiet.
Love and hate, devotion and betrayal—they clashed inside me, swirling into a dizzying whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.
When Malik returned from whatever monster business he had been conducting that afternoon, I fled the front room, unwilling to face him.
But, of course, he decided otherwise.
In the infuriating way he had perfected, Malik materialized directly in front of me, cutting off my escape.
“Olivia.”
His voice was edged with something almost…pleading.
Before I could turn away, he reached out, took my chin in his hand, and tilted it up, forcing me to meet his gaze.
His emerald eyes shimmered, a hypnotic pull I should have resisted.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to speak.
Malik exhaled softly. “I understand that you’re mad at me. I apologize for letting my dark side come out.”
His words were gentle, but they carried a hint of manipulation.
I wasn’t falling for it.
“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not—the fact is, you did it.” My voice was cold, even as my pulse roared. “I no longer feel safe around you.”
A shadow passed over Malik’s features. He let out a pained sigh. “It will never happen again.”
I almost laughed at that.
But then his expression shifted—serious, controlled.
“We must be allies, Olivia. Tonight is important.”
And just like that, reality came hurtling back.
“How can I be your ally if I don’t trust you?” I tried to pull away from his iron grip, but he held firm.
Then, just as suddenly, he released me. His fingers trailed along my cheek, the ghost of a caress.
“I told you I’d never do it again, and I meant it.” His piercing gaze searched mine. “You have to trust me. Now, come—talk with me.”
Could I trust him?
It seemed I had no choice.
Reluctantly, I placed my hand in his, allowing him to lead me into the front room.
We settled on opposite ends of the silk-covered sofa, an invisible chasm stretching between us.
The decor here clashed with the monster who inhabited the space.
Exquisite paintings adorned the walls, their colors rich and masterful.
Delicate, hand-painted vases and ornate fans sat on bookshelves and tables, each a piece of quiet artistry.
A serene Buddha statue rested in the corner, its presence almost mocking in contrast to the man who lived here.
It was a masterpiece of a room.
It was a deception, like everything else about Malik.
I perched on the edge of my seat, barely breathing, waiting for him to speak.
“Tonight’s ball is a regional event,” he said at last. “People from all over will be attending. Some will travel from nearby cities—others from as far as Rome.”
His face was unreadable—no kindness, warmth, or disgust—just a cold calculation.
“Okay,” I said carefully, nodding, encouraging him to continue.
His next words made my stomach turn.
“Your mother met Balthazar at this event.” He sounded eerily detached. “This gathering is debauchery at its basest level.”
My frown deepened.
Then, Malik’s gaze locked onto mine. “And you, Olivia, will be expected to partake.”
My body went rigid. “No.”
He didn’t blink. “Yes.”
I shook my head, my voice hard. “I only care about Roman. I won’t be tempted to do anything besides find my husband.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong, love.” Malik’s voice was smooth, but his gaze grew stern. “The atmosphere is so highly charged you’ll be filled with cravings.”
An uncomfortable prickle ran down my spine.
“I’m a grown woman,” I said, lifting my chin. “I can control my impulses.”
Malik smirked, dark amusement shining in his eyes. “Oh, I see. You’re an expert in orgies and parties of this nature.”
Heat rushed to my face. “No! I didn’t say that.”
His smile widened, but then it faded into something more serious.
“I’m warning you, Olivia. You must heed my words.
Trust me, you will be tempted.” His eyes closed briefly as if recalling something buried deep in his past. “It’s an intoxicating environment.
Lust, in all its forms, will rule the night. ”
A shiver cascaded through me—unexpected and unwelcome.
Malik turned toward the window, stroking his jaw in thought. The movement drew my gaze to the strong line of his neck, the way the muscle flexed beneath his skin.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to look away. Roman. Remember Roman. Roman is the man for you.
And he was. I loved Roman—heart and soul.
But I couldn’t explain why Malik’s presence still unsettled me.
Malik’s eyes snapped back to mine as if sensing my inner turmoil. His stare was ice-cold, carrying a silent warning.
“The most important thing you need to remember about Raul Costa, the host of this ball, is that he isn’t just menacing or dangerous—he is downright malevolent.”
I stiffened. “You already told me that.”
Malik’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation.”
I scoffed. “I understand perfectly. You, Balthazar, and every other darkness are all dangerous.”
Malik’s expression didn’t change, but his words sent an eerie chill through me.
“Timehunters are more dangerous than all of us combined.”
His probing gaze seemed to peel me apart, stripping away my confidence until I stood there, exposed and vulnerable.
A cold dread settled over me.
“H-how is that possible?” I stammered.
His face darkened, and suddenly, the air in the room felt heavy.
“Ever since the first Timebornes came into existence, a secret society was formed alongside them. They called themselves the Timehunters—an order obsessed with the idea that time travelers threatened society. They believed we were unnatural, dangerous, and an affront to the balance of time. And so, they made it their life’s work to eradicate us. They made it their passion.”
A shiver crawled over my skin. I rubbed my arms, now covered in gooseflesh.
Malik’s voice dropped lower as if uttering a forbidden truth.
“They are the Maestri del Veleno—the Masters of Poison. Their knowledge of deadly substances is unparalleled. They’ve blended their expertise with alchemy, creating poisons with no known antidote.
” He hesitated. “Well… there is an antidote, but it’s nearly impossible to acquire.
Their toxins don’t just kill—they weaken the darkness itself. ”
My breath hitched. “They can weaken you?”
He exhaled through his nose, smoothing his long hair back.
“Here’s how they work.” His voice was quieter now, heavier, like a confession weighted with trauma. “They trap time travelers. Experiment with them. They test poisons—one after another—until they find the perfect combination that will cripple them.”
A shadow passed over his eyes—a look I had never seen before.
“They secure them in a sealed room and flood it with poison vapors designed to invade their minds, to twist their senses. At first, they hallucinate. Then comes the sweating, the nausea, the retching. Their body convulses as their mind fractures. And when they’re weak enough, when their resistance crumbles… ”
His voice dipped into something nearly haunted.
“They drain their blood and kill them.”
A shocked gasp ripped from my throat.
My hand flew to my mouth as bile rose inside me.
“This is what you experienced, isn’t it?” I whispered.
Malik’s jaw clenched. For the first time, he looked away.
And I knew—without him needing to say a word—
He had lived that nightmare.
“Raul Costa is the head of the society here in Italy,” Malik warned. “Your mother trusted him. He used her. He tortured her.”
A sick shudder ran through me.
“Somehow, she survived and escaped,” he continued, his expression unreadable.
I swallowed hard. “I know. She wrote about it in her journal.”
Malik nodded, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Oh yes, she did. But what she didn’t write—what she couldn’t—is that every year, Costa finds two Timebornes or Timebounds to torture. I don’t know how he finds them, but he makes a spectacle of it.”
A cold dread coiled in my gut. “A… spectacle?”
Malik’s smile was grim. “At the masquerade ball, there will be an exhibit.”
I stared at him, horrified.
“The guests love it,” he said bitterly. “They think it’s all theater—just an elaborate act.
But the other Timehunters? They know the truth.
And they enjoy it. The thrill of the torture, the exquisite pleasure of inflicting pain, the deafening screams—they revel in it with sadistic glee.
Every moan, every cry that escapes their victims’ lips is like honey to them. ”
His gaze darkened, distant. “Afterward, they’ll find ways to slake their desires at the ball.”
A cold sweat broke out across my skin.
“Meanwhile, a real, living person is enduring prolonged agony.”
My stomach lurched. I clutched my arms, bile rising in my throat.
“This is sick. I had no idea. I thought the darkness had no weaknesses. I thought you had to kill every day to survive, to keep your strength. And that your original time traveler dagger could control you. But…” I swallowed hard.
“I didn’t know certain poisons could weaken you. ”
Malik shrugged, his expression unreadable.
I leaned forward, picking at my fingernails, my nerves fraying every second. “So… did Balthazar put you in prison and hand you over to a Timehunter for torture?”
Malik turned his gaze on me. His eyes were hollow, void of any feeling.
“Yes.”