CHAPTER SIX
OLIVIA
T he air in the dungeon was tense; the musky scent of old metal mingled with fear.
Without a word, Mathias reached for a rusty metal handle protruding from the wall. He turned it with a twist of his wrist, and a hissing sound filled the chamber.
“Mathias, no!” I screamed.
From the corner of the dank cell, a guttural howl erupted as Balthazar writhed in agony, the poison seeping through invisible vents and enveloping him in its deathly embrace. Malik and Roman, their faces etched with horror and disbelief, rushed toward us, but they were too late to stop the vile act.
“Shut off the poison!” My voice broke, the words barely escaping through the lump in my throat. When no one moved, I looked for the source. A dull, iron handle protruded from the wall to Balthazar’s cell. I lunged toward it and cranked it off.
Mathias turned to me, his eyes unnervingly calm amidst the chaos.
“He’s telling his ridiculous tales, and they need to stop,” he said, his voice steady, soothing in its madness. The sickening click of the handle still echoed in my ears. “All this crazy talk. Calling you ‘your majesty.’ He’s telling you lies. He wants you to feel sorry for him.”
My gaze flicked back to Balthazar, who now clutched the severed head—Tristan’s—his tears mixing with bloodstains.
“Why did you behead Tristan?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level, not to let it tremble with fury and fear.
“You and Emily were in danger,” Mathias replied, speaking as if explaining something trivial, like why the sky was blue. “He wouldn’t listen. He put you through hell. I wanted to protect you and your unborn child.”
His words were meant to be comforting, but they felt like daggers, each stabbing deeper than the last.
I rolled my eyes, unable to hold back my contempt. Can this moment get any weirder? A carousel of doubts and truths spun wildly inside my mind, each more grotesque and nightmarish than the last.
The metallic tang of blood and poison sat heavy on my tongue. Alina’s entrance was like a match struck in a room doused in gasoline. She sauntered in, her eyes alight with the fire of triumph, her stride confident and mocking.
Still reeling from the venom that pulsed through his veins, Balthazar fixed her with a glare that could have melted steel.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the serpent herself,” he said, his voice laced with contempt and pain.
“In the end, you lost; I won,” Alina said with a sneer as she took in Balthazar’s haggard form, trapped behind bars. “You’re caged like an animal.”
His bitter and hoarse laughter filled the space between us. The sound was jarring, a symphony of agony as the belladonna seeped into every crevice of his cell, into his very pores.
“Everyone in this room, especially your daughter and Malik, should know who you are,” he spat the words, disgust curling through his voice.
“Let’s start with the fake journal you created, painting a picture of our toxic relationship. Claiming I killed your family. But everyone should know it was you. You threw yourself at me.”
He leaned in closer, his eyes blazing with anger. “And then there’s the night of the incident. You started to play with yourself in front of your dead sister, fingering yourself and begging me to fuck you like an animal.”
Alina’s face contorted with rage.
“You never wrote about how you poisoned my mind against Malik, weaving lies until I was convinced he was plotting against me. You craved all the power and sought to eliminate anyone who stood in your way.” His voice shook with anger and sorrow. “And what of Layla? You disfigured her and crushed her soul without a second thought. Then you ran to Raul with your whoring?—”
“It was you who fucking killed Layla?” The words erupted from Malik like a volcano, raw and destructive. He was upon Alina in two strides, hands closing around her delicate neck with the strength of unleashed fury.
“Malik, stop!” I cried out, frozen in horror.
Roman threw himself at Malik, desperately trying to unfurl his fingers from Alina’s throat.
“Get your filthy fucking hands off my daughter!” Mathias bellowed, shoving Roman aside. He slammed Malik against the glass wall with enough force to shudder through the room. My mother staggered to the side, clutching her neck, while Malik’s chest heaved with suppressed violence.
“Enough!” Mathias’ command cut through the chaos, but Malik was already storming away, and the echo of his footfalls was a thunderous reminder of the dangerous undercurrents swirling among us.
Mathias turned his cold gaze back to Balthazar, his voice icy with finality. “Enough with your lies, Balthazar, about Alina. Game over. You lost. You’ll be gone once Olivia and Roman find the moon dagger.”
He swiveled toward me, his expression softening into a fatherly concern that didn’t reach his eyes. “Come, Olivia. Roman and Alina, let’s go. There’s nothing to see here.”
I squared my shoulders, defiance blooming within me. “I’m not a child, Mathias. If I want to stay, I will.”
This was my stand, my moment to assert my right to seek the truth amidst the web of deceit.
My mother stepped forward, her face a mask of maternal worry, yet it did little to hide the steel in her voice.
“Stay if you want, but he will tell you lies. But as you wish,” she sighed as though each word pained her. “I just want to protect you from this sickening monster.”
Her plea clashed with the memories of her written words, the pages that spoke of love once fierce and consuming.
“But, Mom, your journals say you loved him despite everything and wanted to help or fix him to be a better person. Now, you despise him. I’m confused.” My voice wavered, betraying my turmoil.
“Monsters can’t change. They grow hungrier for power,” she replied, her tone resolute, her eyes dark pools of conviction.
Balthazar’s scornful laugh cut through the air.
“You wanted those blades to rule the world with darkness. That’s all you cared for,” he said, his accusation a sharp jab at her polished armor of righteousness.
The chamber seemed to contract, the walls pressing in as the weight of their shared past bore down on us. Lies, love, and the lust for power tangled before my eyes, leaving me to sift through the wreckage for shards of truth.
Mom’s silhouette spun with a viper’s quickness, her eyes narrowing into slits as she faced Balthazar. “You dare speak to me this way?”
“I never loved you,” Balthazar spat, the poison in his cell nothing compared to the vitriol in his tone. “You spread your legs to every fucking man. You killed my Scarlett because you were jealous that I moved on with my life.”
His accusation hung heavy in the air, an invisible fog that seemed to weave through the iron bars to wrap around us all.
“You know the secrets of Olivia’s destiny,” he said, and the ground beneath my feet turned cold. “You’re afraid she will learn of it and destroy you all. But she will learn, and there will be no turning back.”
A look of shock passed between Roman and me, a silent understanding that the scene unraveling before us was more than just a clash of past lovers—it was the collapse of history itself. My hand flew to my stomach as it tightened, a sharp contraction seizing me. My knees buckled, and I crumpled onto the cold stone floor, gasping, the world tilting dangerously.
“Take care of her.” Balthazar’s voice carried through the air, raw and jagged with pain, each word drenched in anguish. “Before her mother tries to kill her again.”
Roman’s arms wrapped around me with unwavering strength as he lifted me from the cold, unyielding stone that had broken my fall. His gaze locked onto mine, a storm of worry swirling in his eyes before he turned and began navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the estate. Every step he took carried us farther from the chaos behind us in Balthazar’s cell.
“Everything… it’s all unraveling,” I whispered, my trembling fingers clutching the fabric of Roman’s shirt as if it were my last anchor. My voice wavered, struggling to rise above the suffocating fog of pain and confusion. “Balthazar… he was crying for his son. They say poison forces the truth to spill from even the most guarded tongues.”
Roman’s jaw tightened, a flash of steel in his expression as we ascended the echoing staircase, each step a whisper against the cold marble.
Each step echoed beneath our weight, a grim reminder of the fragile ground we were treading—literally and metaphorically. “You shouldn’t have gone down there, Olivia. You need rest,” he murmured.
“He told me that Raul and Mathias are working together,” I continued, my mind racing as much as my heart. Each breath fanned the flames of doubt that Balthazar’s words had sparked.
“Rest now,” Roman said, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead as he laid me down on the softness of my bed, a striking difference from the challenging reality we had departed from. “We’ll sort through these things later.”
As he turned to leave, I reached out, my fingers wrapping tightly around his hand. “Do you believe any of it, Roman?”
A storm of emotions flickered across his face—doubt, fear, something else I couldn’t name—but instead of hiding behind his usual mask, he exhaled softly and sat back down. He didn’t let go of my hand.
“I don’t know, Olivia,” he admitted, his voice quieter, rougher. “But whatever it is, I’m not letting you face it alone.”
The weight of uncertainty pressed against my chest like a stone, heavy and suffocating. “Stay,” I whispered. “Just for a little while.”
He didn’t hesitate. Shifting beside me, he stretched out on the bed, his warmth chasing away the icy dread curling inside me. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer and grounding me in something real. I pressed my face against his chest, feeling the steady, unshaken rhythm of his heartbeat—a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me.
In the hush that followed, one truth burned through the chaos: I believed Balthazar's words deep down beneath every doubt and desperate hope. Every single one.
And that belief terrified me more than any blade, battle, or poison.
As sleep crept in, the chilling realization settled like a shadow over my soul—whatever came next would shatter everything I thought I knew about my family and myself. And there would be no turning back.