Chapter 34
Marcellious
Iawoke in a dark, dank dungeon, my arms shackled to the wall.
The cold metal bit into my wrists, the rusted chains rubbing raw against my skin. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain searing through my limbs.
I closed my eyes, willing myself to focus on anything but the agony.
But my mind had other plans.
The past coiled around me like a serpent, sinking its fangs deep.
The memories, the deaths—the monstrous things I had done.
Faces blurred together in the recesses of my conscience. The lifeless bodies of men I had slain. The helpless ones I had doomed. The blood—so much blood—spilled on my hands.
Their voices came next, whispering from the darkness, curling around me like ghostly fingers.
“You’re not worthy of love.”
“You are nothing but a killer.”
“A monster.”
The words strangled me, pressing into my chest like an invisible weight.
Emily must hate me.
A part of me agreed—how could she not?
My body throbbed as I tugged against the iron restraints, the jagged metal biting deeper into my wrists. The pain was grounding and welcome—a physical punishment for the sins repeating in my mind.
Then—
Movement. A presence.
Through the murky haze of my suffering, a figure emerged.
Dancing Fire.
The man I called father.
He had taught me everything—how to hunt, track, and survive.
We had ridden together, lived together, bled together.
And now—
He glared at me.
Towering. Seething. His presence crackled with fury.
“What do you want?” I rasped.
Dancing Fire stepped closer, his form impossibly large, looming, stretching beyond human proportions, filling the space until he was in the dungeon.
“You didn’t give me a chance to explain myself before leaving me,” he hissed. His voice was like wind through dead leaves—rustling, unforgiving.
A blade glinted in his hand.
“You were the only son I had.”
He lifted the knife—
And thrust it toward my heart.
“But you left me.”
I thrashed against the chains, panic surging through me.
“No, no, no!” My voice cracked. “It wasn’t like that! I had to leave!”
But the past didn’t care.
It held me in its grip—merciless—refusing to let me go.
And still, the ghosts whispered.
Still, the guilt devoured me whole.
A thousand men raised their arms and lashed me with their whips.
“You deceived us!” they cried. “You betrayed us!”
I crumpled beneath the onslaught, my body wrecked, my mind unraveling. It felt as if I were meant for this suffering, as if my destiny had always been to endure such merciless agony.
The memories crashed over me, relentless waves dragging me toward madness. I wanted the pain to stop—desperately—but my demons would not release me.
The clang of metal rattled through my haze. Costa stood at the iron-barred door of my cell, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
“I see the belladonna is working its magic on you,” he mused, tilting his head. “It’s a fascinating substance—morphing to match the insanity buried in each mind.” His lips curled. “And that was just a small dose. Wait until I give you the full amount.”
His laughter died abruptly. His expression darkened. “I hate your kind. Time travelers are a plague, and I want every last one of you eradicated.”
A burst of smoke and fire erupted beside him. Balthazar stepped from the flames, his gnarled fingers locking around the iron bars like a vice. He leaned in, voice a venomous whisper.
“Let me in with him,” he snarled. “I’ll make sure his suffering lasts for eternity—with my special brand of poison torture.”
Costa’s gaze darted sideways, his jaw tightening. “I’ve got it under control.”
Balthazar’s lips twisted into something between a sneer and a grin. “Come on, Raul. We need him to talk. We need to know who Demarrias is working for.”
“And I said I’ve got it under control,” Costa hissed. His face darkened to an unnatural red as his hands curled into fists. He stepped toward Balthazar, his stance coiled, dangerous. Balthazar mirrored him, the air between them crackling with tension.
Then—footsteps.
The heavy thud of boots echoed down the corridor. More were coming.
Backup.
“We’re ready, sir,” a gruff voice announced.
“Excellent,” Costa replied, satisfied.
Keys jangled. The lock clinked. The iron door groaned open.
Costa stepped inside, followed by Balthazar and two masked figures. The newcomers were massive, their muscles flexing beneath heavy chainmail vests. They gripped their torches like weapons, their faces obscured behind steel masks, towering like vengeful titans in the dim light.
The flames cast long, twisting shadows across the cell walls—phantoms that mimicked the ones haunting my mind.
Balthazar wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. This place stinks.”
Costa chuckled. “That’s part of the charm. It makes them rot in their filth. That—and the poison—works wonders.”
Balthazar shivered with unrestrained excitement, his fingers twitching as he leaned forward. His breath came in quick bursts. His eyes gleamed with wicked anticipation, his sinister smile stretching wide.
“Let me have him,” he whispered, revealing his bloodlust. “I want to hear him scream.”
“Not happening,” Costa snapped.
Balthazar’s expression darkened. In one swift motion, he drew a dagger from his sheath, pointing it at Costa. “I thought we were allies. But you’ve deceived me—just like he did.”
The blade turned toward me.
Costa barely flinched. With a wave, he batted the knife aside. “Try that again, and I’ll make sure you’re the one rotting in this cell next.”
Balthazar let out a bitter laugh. “You think you can imprison me? You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
I barely heard them. My body was hunched, trying to escape the putrid stench invading my senses.
The air was thick with human waste and vomit, the suffocating stench of suffering and decay pressing in from all sides.
The walls seemed to close in, heavy with the ghosts of those who had perished here.
I was drowning in it.
Costa’s voice cut through the haze. “You and I are a means to an end, that’s all.” He gestured to his men. “Unchain him. We’re moving him to a cell with less ventilation—let the poison work its magic properly.”
The masked men advanced.
I jerked against my restraints, but I was too weak to put up a fight. I knew what awaited me—torture, suffering, more poison seeping into my veins. My body braced for it.
They knelt on either side of me, unlocking the iron shackles clamped around my wrists and ankles.
Then, with ruthless efficiency, they seized my arms and dragged me across the jagged stone floor.
Costa and Balthazar stepped aside, their quiet argument trailing behind us. My clothes shredded against the rough ground, stone scraping my skin raw. Every movement sent fresh pain jolting through my body.
I gasped for breath, my world shrinking as they dumped me into another cell.
Six feet by six feet. No windows. No openings. A suffocating tomb.
The masked men shackled me against the cold wall, their metal chains biting into my flesh. Then they turned and walked out, leaving me alone. Relief settled in my chest.
It lasted mere seconds.
The door slammed shut.
Balthazar stepped inside, brandishing a dagger, and snarled, “Where’s my dagger?”
Before I could react, the blade flashed, ripping through my shirt and slicing into my chest.
A gasp escaped my lips as warm blood spilled down my skin.
Balthazar’s face contorted, his fury unrestrained. “You son of a bitch! Where is it? Alina’s dagger is gone, too, and you’re the only one who could have taken them!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I croaked.
I braced myself for the worst but refused to let him break me. I had to endure, for Emily and I had to stay strong. I wouldn’t let them win, no matter how cruel Costa’s and Balthazar’s methods became.
As a gladiator, I had learned to compartmentalize pain, to push it into a dark corner of my mind and resist. I called upon that skill now as Balthazar’s blade carved into my flesh. If I let them break me, I would be lost forever.
“Who have you been helping? Who are you working with?” Balthazar demanded. “Was it Malik?”
The poison clouding my mind loosened my tongue before I could stop it.
“Yes.”
Shit. Why the hell was I telling him anything?
The words spilled from my lips in a rush, as if they had their own will.
“You sought me out. You made me your pawn, tainting me with your lies. But Malik told me the truth. Malik saved me.” I couldn’t stop the torrent of confession.
It had to be the belladonna. “And if you kill me today, it won’t matter.
Emily will never know you’re her father.
The best part? You’ll never see your grandchild. ”
Balthazar’s roar shook the walls. His body seemed to expand, and his rage was so monstrous that it distorted reality.
“Where is my daughter?”
I forced a smirk through the pain. “I’ll never tell you. I’d rather die first.”
The impact came swiftly and brutally. Balthazar’s backhand split my lip, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.
“Then I’m going to kill you.” His voice was thick with venom.
I spat blood onto the floor. “Go ahead. I’ve done enough betrayal. You can’t hurt me anymore.”
But that wasn’t true. The agony was a wildfire, spreading, searing, breaking through my defenses. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold out.
Balthazar grabbed my shirt and tore it from my body. His breath hitched as his gaze swept over my back.
Then, he laughed.
A deep, cruel sound.
“Look at these brands! Seems like you could use a few more.” He bellowed. He turned to the masked men. “Bring me a white-hot branding iron!”
The room spun. The walls closed in.
The last thing I heard was the hiss of steel in the fire.
Then—darkness.
I jolted awake, a scream stuck in my throat as the searing metal burned into my back. The stench of charred flesh—my flesh—hung thick in the air, rancid and suffocating. Smoke curled around me, acrid and poisonous, stinging my eyes and choking my lungs.