CHAPTER FIVE
OLIVIA
I t had been a week since my mother returned, and the atmosphere in the house was thick with a tension that clung to my skin. I stayed close to Emily, helping her with baby Leo and his innocent coos, which starkly contrasted with the chaos unfurling around us. Avoiding my mother became a silent routine; we orbited each other, careful not to collide.
Lee and Mathias were relentless in their search for Marcellious, their determination as doggedly persistent as the fear that kept me awake at night. Their quest for the dagger consumed Osman, Malik, and Roman.
Roman would return home each night, his eyes heavy with burdens he tried to shield me from. Silently, he would slip into bed with me, his warm body pressing against mine as we intertwined in the language of touch. Our lovemaking was slow and deliberate, each movement filled with a raw passion that could only be conveyed through our bodies. Roman fought to stay awake despite his fatigue as we explored each other’s desires. As we finally reached the peak of our pleasure, he would collapse beside me, his chest rising and falling rapidly in pure exhaustion and satisfaction. Every moment spent in this intimate embrace reminded us of our undying love for one another.
Amidst the turmoil, thoughts of Balthazar haunted me. The dungeon where he languished felt like a gaping mouth beckoning with forbidden knowledge. Questions gnawed at me, like who my mother and Mathias were and the nature of Malik and Mathias’ relationship. Would Balthazar tell me the truth about my mother in his Belladonna delirium? I found my resolve hardening like forged steel. Tonight, I decided I would have answers.
Mathias kept the keys hidden inside a book of ancient lore on the third shelf of the study. Their weight was reassuring in my palm as I slid them into the pocket of my cloak. Taking them felt like plunging into icy waters—a shock to my system but strangely invigorating.
With quiet steps, I slipped through shadow-draped hallways, the keys a silent promise against my thigh. My heart thrummed a nervous rhythm, yet the pull toward the dungeon was undeniable, a magnetic force that drew me toward the truth I sought from the man who could upend everything I believed.
That night, the manor was steeped in silence as if holding its breath, bracing for the secrets buried within its stone walls. The luxurious chambers where Alina had ensconced herself were far removed from the rest of us. Her laughter and the clinking of fine glassware barely permeated the thick tapestries as she indulged in her newfound opulence.
Emily’s gentle lullabies to baby Leo drifted through the corridors, accompanied by Rosie’s soft giggles starkly contrasting the turmoil within me.
Clutching the cold metal of the keys, my fingers trembled slightly—not from the chill of the night, but from the weight of what I was about to do. Each step toward the dungeon felt like descending into the depths of an evil abyss. The air grew colder, damper.
My mind was consumed by the memories of Roman’s and my passion, spent in the cloak of night, hidden from prying eyes. The echo of our lovemaking lingered as a bittersweet reminder that kept me going through my long, lonely days. I yearned for his warmth, his strength, but tonight, I walked alone in the darkness. My heart ached with longing, and his absence made my steps heavy.
As I edged closer to the dungeon door, my pulse quickened. Was it fear or determination that fueled my resolve? With a deep breath to steady myself, I slid the key into the lock, its click echoing ominously in the hollow space. The door creaked open, protesting the disturbance.
Inside, shadows clung to the walls, and the usual stench of belladonna poison was notably absent. My eyes adjusted to the dimness, drawn to a corner where Balthazar sat crumpled against the stone. His figure was hunched over something—or someone. It was Tristan, or rather what remained of him. His head rested on his father’s lap, a tragic tableau that reeked of grief and regret.
“I’m sorry for failing you, my son,” Balthazar murmured, his voice cracked and thick with sorrow. He stroked Tristan’s hair, oblivious to my presence. “I should have been a better father. I should have given you a better life. I should have put the past away and moved on. I wanted to bring your sisters back.”
Sisters? My breath caught in my throat, my heart aching at the raw pain in his words.
He continued, lost in his lamentations. “And now my greatest enemy has trapped me. Long ago, I had a wife. A Loving family. A wonderful life. Until they were taken away from me, I tried to look for my Freya but couldn’t find her. I only have my daughter Emily now, but she doesn’t want me. Oh, Tristan. I should have been a better father and left my past behind.”
His words trailed into the darkness, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. There he was, the feared Balthazar, broken and weeping, a monster mourning his child. I clenched the keys tighter, knuckles whitening. This man, this...father—Was he the beast I believed him to be, or something more complicated?
The chill of the dungeon seeped into my bones as I stood there, transfixed by Balthazar’s despair. In his grief, I saw not just the villain of my tales but a fragment of the man he might once have been—a man shattered by loss, twisted by vengeance.
The truth I sought seemed more elusive than ever.
The keys jangled in my hand. Balthazar’s head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto mine with a ferocity that made me recoil.
“Why have you come, Olivia?” he said, his voice dripping with disdain and something else—pain, perhaps? “To gloat? Are you filled with glee to find me here, locked up and tortured?”
The dim light glinted off the thick glass that separated us, casting eerie shadows across his haggard face.
“ You, my dear, should be scared,” he said. “Mathias and Alina are the biggest monsters out there.”
I gasped, my heart pounding against my ribcage. His words were like a physical blow, jarring and unexpected.
“Mathias has only shown me kindness and respect,” I said, but my voice trembled with the uncertainty that had taken root deep within.
Balthazar’s laugh was hollow and mocking as it bounced off the stone walls. He turned away from me, his fingers lingering on Tristan’s lifeless form as if drawing strength—or maybe seeking forgiveness—from the son he’d outlived. Then, he crawled toward me, chains clanking, with a fluid motion that belied his earlier despair.
“Mathias is the biggest monster. The greatest actor,” he hissed through the barrier between us, his voice laced with a venom meant for someone not present. He pressed his callused palms against the glass. “That despicable monster killed my daughters. He took my wife from me. His daughter, your fucking mother, killed my Scarlett. He is using you, pretending to be the greatest host, protecting you, being the nice grandfather. But once he possesses those blades, he will kill you and show you no mercy.”
He withdrew, finding and cradling his son’s lifeless head.
My breath caught in my throat. I searched his face for signs of deceit, for the manipulation I’d been warned about. Yet, looking into his eyes, I saw not just the simmering anger but also the flicker of genuine fear, a father’s torment over lost children. Could a man so broken still weave such intricate lies?
The cold of the underground chamber seeped into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the icy dread that began to crystallize in my stomach. What if Balthazar spoke the truth?
My fingers tightened around the cold metal keys, my heart pounding in my chest. The heavy silence of the dungeon was punctuated only by Balthazar’s low sobs as he cradled his son’s head. A shiver ran down my spine.
“Who is Scarlett? Who are Balthazar’s daughters?” I whispered, the questions echoing off the stone walls. “You are nothing but a monstrous fiend, Balthazar. You have caused me immeasurable suffering. With one cruel act, you snuffed out the life of my innocent child and tore away a piece of my soul. You left me shattered and battered, bleeding from wounds that may never heal.”
The words fell into the darkness like stones into a well, their truth reverberating back at me. He lifted his head, and tears streaked the grime on his cheeks.
“I had no idea you were carrying a child,” he choked out. “A child is a blessing. I loved my children. They were my greatest joy. They were all taken away from me ruthlessly. If I destroyed the life inside you, I am deeply sorry. The loss of a child…”
His voice trailed off, held by a spider’s web of grief.
Confusion laced with an unwelcome surge of sympathy made my stomach churn. I had never seen Balthazar so vulnerable, in so much pain. The torment in his voice and his small confessions made me feel a bit sad for him.
“I’m sorry about Tristan,” I said, my voice softer than intended. “Mathias shouldn’t have killed him so brutally. He could have struck him with a sword and merely wounded him. But beheading him was awful.”
Balthazar snapped his gaze to mine. “Leave this place. Mathias and Alina are vicious monsters. Leave!”
“Flabbergasted” was too mild a word for what I felt.
“All you do is lie,” I spat, pressing my hands against the cool glass, needing the barrier between us.
Balthazar’s face contorted with anger, his eyes blazing with all-consuming fire.
“You think I have always been like this, an evil monster who takes pleasure in causing pain and suffering? You are wrong. There was a time when I was not consumed by such darkness.” His voice trembled with emotion as he spoke. “I was a father of five with a wife. The Timehunters killed them and destroyed my home. It was Mathias who sent them. He was jealous of my life and the happiness I enjoyed. But Darknesses shouldn’t be happy—that seems to be an unwritten law. Your mother, the fucking whore, turned me against Malik. She made me imprison him. She killed Layla. The monsters are up there. ” He stabbed his forefinger overhead. “You’re too blind to see it. You and your gladiator.”
His ferocity hit me like a physical force, and I stumbled backward, my breath coming in short gasps. How could a man who spoke of love and loss also speak such vile words? The contradictions of Balthazar—the grieving father, the scorned lover, the ruthless killer—swirled before me, obscuring the line between truth and lies.
The last echo of Balthazar’s claims pulsed in my ears. Alina—my mother— and Mathias were vicious monsters? The words tangled with my thoughts, a knot I couldn’t untie. Despite the dread that twisted my stomach, something about his accusations felt uncomfortably plausible.
“Prove you’re not lying,” I said, though the distance between us was less for safety and more for preserving my crumbling resolve. “If there’s one thing you can tell me, where is Marcellious?”
A devious grin stretched across Balthazar’s face, splitting it like a crack in a stone statue. My skin crawled with unease.
“Why bother asking me where he is when Mathias knows? He’s just toying with you, painting himself as the hero while he and Raul are thick as thieves.” Balthazar’s voice dripped with malice, his eyes glinting with a cunning light that revealed his true intentions. I could practically taste the deceit on his breath.
Bile rose in my throat at the implications, but I shoved it down with a fierceness born of fear.
“Balthazar, stop turning me against Mathias,” I said, my voice carrying an authority I didn’t feel. “I know you’re trying to poison my mind again, just like you did with me before with Roman.
His eyes, dark pools reflecting years of torment, softened as he looked past me, somewhere distant and unreachable.
“You should worry less about Marcellious and worry about your unborn child,” he murmured, his voice laced with a regret that seeped through the thick glass. “Leave and live with your gladiator and protect your unborn child. One minute, they are here. The next, they are gone.”
He splayed his bony fingers.
I swallowed hard against the lump forming in my throat. His words carried the weight of genuine loss—a feeling I knew all too keenly.
“I fucked up a lot,” he said, a shadow passing over his features. “My wife always said to leave the past behind, and I should have listened to her.”
A haunted look claimed his gaze. “You remind me of my beautiful Viking wife. Don’t believe Mathias or Alina. They are the greatest monsters, your majesty .”
I looked at Balthazar in disbelief. Why was he calling me “your majesty?”
“Your majesty ,” he echoed mockingly, yet with a hint of reverence that unsettled me further.
Is he making fun of me? I stood frozen, the damp air of the dungeon clinging to my skin. Could the heart of a monster still recognize truth? Or was this another layer of deception as intricate and convoluted as the labyrinth that held him captive?
A chill crept down my spine, whispering doubts and fears I had long suppressed. And in the gloom of the dungeon, under the scrutiny of a broken man, the foundations of everything I believed began to tremble.
The heavy thud of boots on stone shattered the charged silence.
“That’s enough, Balthazar!” The thunderous and commanding voice radiated authority as it cascaded down the stairwell.
My heart lurched against my ribcage, jolting me from the hypnotic web of Balthazar’s revelations. I jerked back, the keys in my hand clinking faintly, a chime of trepidation. My gaze snapped toward the source of the outburst, where the shadows morphed into the imposing figure of Mathias.
His presence was like a storm cloud bursting forth, his eyes fierce with an intensity that could rival the sun’s blaze—terror seared through my veins, ice-cold and paralyzing. The air turned thick, suffused with the acrid scent of danger, and every instinct screamed at me to flee.
I stood petrified, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. Once a mere prison for the condemned, the dungeon now felt like an arena where hidden truths clashed with the facade of trust I had clung to. Suddenly, a chilling realization gripped me—Mathias’ sinister intentions were far from over, and Balthazar’s fate was the key to unraveling the darkness lurking beneath our feet.
Just as I grasped what lay ahead, Mathias beelined toward a handle in the wall, and I knew he was about to make his next deadly move.