CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
ALINA
M y consciousness flickered like a dying flame as I came to, the stench of decay and damp stone assaulting my senses. A cold shiver ran down my spine, and I froze as something crawled across my skin. Panic surged as I jerked against the chains binding me to the wall, the clanking of metal echoing through the oppressive void. A tingling sensation spread, and I looked down in horror to see dozens of tiny white maggots swarming over my flesh. They writhed and squirmed, some creeping up my legs, others brushing against my face. Their slimy, relentless movements made bile rise in my throat as I frantically thrashed, trying to dislodge them.
I screamed a raw, throat-tearing sound that reverberated through the darkness, returning to me like a taunting echo.
“Where am I? Someone help me!” The words ripped from my lips, soaked in desperation.
“Alina, my daughter, are you alright?” Strained with pain and concern, the voice cut through the suffocating blackness. My father. Mathias. His presence was a cruel paradox—comfort in the reminder that I wasn’t alone but despair in knowing he was trapped in this waking nightmare.
“Where are you?” I croaked, twisting toward the direction of his voice, my vision swallowed by the impenetrable ink of our prison.
“A dark place, my dear,” he said, his tone muffled, struggling as if to break through some unseen barrier. Then his voice hardened, laced with bitter reproach. “You fucked up. You knew the plan. But you got impatient. You revealed yourself to Olivia. And in the heat of it all, I followed suit. Now, here we are, in Salvatore’s torture chamber.”
The words struck like a hammer, and I groaned at the weight of our shared fate. Salvatore. The darkest of the dark. The very father of shadows. What cruel horrors awaited us in his lair?
Guilt coiled in my gut, a knot heavier than the chains biting into my wrists. We had fallen into the snare we had so carefully laid for others, undone by my recklessness. My tempestuous impatience had shattered the delicate balance of our scheme, and now we were paying the price.
I clawed at my skin, desperate to rid myself of the writhing maggots that clung to me, their slimy forms a relentless reminder of my downfall. Revulsion churned in my stomach, threatening to overwhelm me, when an eerie light flickered to life. It cast long, grotesque shadows across the damp stone walls of the dungeon, distorting the space into something far more sinister.
Salvatore’s silhouette filled the doorway, his presence as oppressive as the chains that held me. His wicked laugh—a mocking cackle—ricocheted off the walls, a sound that carried the promise of pain and despair with it.
“You fucking idiots,” he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. “Everything we worked for—everything—went to shit in just a few months.”
I shuddered, the cold chains rattling as I instinctively tried to pull away from him, wishing I could shrink into nothingness. His presence was a suffocating weight, and every step he took felt like it pressed that weight further into my chest.
“Why is it,” Salvatore continued, pacing like a predator savoring the moment before it struck, “the moment I released you to your daughter, Mathias, you managed to screw everything up? I should have handled things myself.”
His footsteps echoed menacingly as he turned to face my father, his tone darkening with each word. “Your job was simple—keep Olivia alive. Not scare her half to death. You were supposed to make her feel safe. Comforted. Trusting.” He stopped, his piercing gaze boring into us both. “But what did you do? You scared the shit out of her and showed her exactly who you are—a goddamned villain.”
His words struck like a razor, slicing through the fragile remnants of my resolve. The careful facade we had built over years of manipulation lay in ruins at our feet, destroyed by our hubris. What was once within our grasp now felt impossibly distant, Olivia’s trust as unreachable as a star in the night sky.
“Olivia wasn’t supposed to fear you,” Salvatore hissed, venom dripping from every syllable. “She was supposed to find solace, safety, in your presence. But instead, you threatened her life and the life of her innocent child. You didn’t even try to earn her trust. You forced her to see the truth about who you are. And now?” His voice dropped, cold and final. “There is no going back.”
His tone was final; his words were a judgment without appeal.
As Salvatore’s gaze shifted, I followed it to where my father, Mathias, was bound. Belladonna branches coiled tightly around him, their toxic embrace a grotesque mockery of tenderness. The flowers brushed against his cheeks, their deadly scent a taunting reminder of their lethality. My father’s agony was etched deeply into his contorted features, each twist of pain a grim testament to Salvatore’s cruel sense of justice.
I watched helplessly, swiping at the vermin crawling over my skin, their numbers seeming to multiply with each passing second.
Salvatore’s voice sliced through the suffocating air again, sharp and cutting. “You let Malik see your true nature. I listened to your pleas and allowed you to reunite with your daughter, and you’ve done this with that chance. Now Malik knows you’re a liar. He sees through your facade and knows the darkness you’ve tried to conceal.”
Mathias’ agony was palpable, yet he remained silent under Salvatore’s condemnation. Hopelessness settled like a stone in my chest, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the horror unfolding before me.
“I have been watching you both,” Salvatore continued, his voice thick with anger, “observing as Olivia stumbled upon your conversation and overheard your sinister plans. Until you obtained both blades, your sole duty was to remain the gracious Count Montego, the doting grandfather who earned Olivia’s trust. Instead, you allowed your wrath to boil over, terrifying Malik and shattering the fragile illusion you were supposed to uphold.”
Salvatore’s words cut deeply, each a scathing reminder of how completely we had failed.
“You should have made Olivia feel safe,” he snarled, pacing like a predator in a cage. “You should have shown her a united front, made her believe that you and Alina were her allies, that you were on the right side of this war. Instead, you revealed your true colors, and now everything is in shambles.”
He was right. We had cloaked ourselves in a pretense of kindness, weaving a facade of warmth and familial bonds. But beneath that carefully constructed lie lay a festering darkness we could no longer conceal. Now, it threatened to devour us completely.
“She felt something was not right about you, yet she would still have been an ally if you had done what I asked,” Salvatore hissed. His words were a damning litany of our failures, each one a nail in our collective coffin.
“Now,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back and fixing his malevolent gaze on me, “let’s move on to the next question. Where the fuck is Balthazar?”
The question hung in the air, weighted and sharp, with the unspoken promise of more torment.
Mathias remained silent, his silence a testament to our shared ignorance. We didn’t know. We were adrift, tangled in the web of our own making, with only the certainty of Salvatore’s wrath to drag us deeper into the abyss.
The stench of decay clawed at my throat, choking any words that might have bought us time.
“We don’t know,” I gasped finally, my voice hoarse, each word scraping against my dry tongue. The taste of rot and fear mingled as I struggled to force the truth free. Maggots writhed at the corners of my eyes, mouth, and ears, their slimy bodies crawling across my skin. I clawed at my face in frantic desperation, smearing their remains in streaks across my flesh. “We went to the dungeon to retrieve him, but… he was gone.”
Salvatore’s roar erupted, filling the chamber with a sound that was more beast than man. It reverberated through the dank space, shaking more maggots from the ceiling loose.
“We had everything in play!” he thundered, his fury a living, breathing thing. The shadows seemed to swell and tremble, conspiring to amplify his wrath. “And you both ruined it!”
Desperation raked its way up my spine, and a fragile, feigned courage came with it.
“Forgive me, Salvatore!” I begged, my voice trembling, the words hollow even to my ears. “I promise—I’ll fix it!”
Salvatore closed the distance between us, striking my cheek with the force of a thunderclap. The taste of iron flooded my mouth as his fist followed, slamming into my jaw. The pain was sharp, immediate—a jarring reminder of my reality. I was nothing more than an animal, perhaps always had been to him. My skin crawled, still alive with the remnants of the creatures that had clung to me upon waking. Now, my spirit squirmed under his gaze, equally repulsed by his touch and the weight of his contempt.
“I’m so sorry. I promise we’ll make this right. Please, let us go,” I begged, even as self-loathing coiled in my gut. My words felt like bile, and whatever respect I had once held for myself had long since been buried under centuries of servitude and sin.
“Pathetic,” he spat, his disgust dripping from the single word as he turned from me and stalked toward Mathias. With each step he took, the belladonna branches constricting my father tightened further, slicing into his flesh like serpents coiling around their prey. The flowers and berries trembled, their movements eerily synchronized, like a death rattle heralding its victim’s demise.
Mathias gasped for breath, each ragged exhale a testament to his suffering. His face was contorted in agony as if his very skull were in the grip of some invisible vice. His chest rose and fell in erratic, shallow bursts—a heart seizing under the weight of terror, not disease.
“We’ll make it up to you. We’ll regain Olivia’s trust,” he rasped, his words pushed out through clenched teeth.
Salvatore’s laughter rang hollow, devoid of humor. “If my sons were older, I wouldn’t have needed you.”
His scorn was sharper than any blade, cutting deeper than my father’s visible wounds.
“I promise to make it right,” I said again, my voice barely a whisper, knowing the futility of my words. “We’ll regain Olivia’s trust.”
“Nonsense,” Salvatore snapped, leaning in so close that his breath seared my skin like venom. His eyes burned with cold determination. “You are done with Olivia. You’ve ruined that path for good.”
He straightened, his commanding presence filling the room as he delivered our sentence. “You will find me the scrolls to reunite the blades. You will scour the far reaches of the earth to retrieve those scrolls before Olivia even has a chance to lay her hands on them.”
I swallowed hard, my heart sinking under the weight of his words. Our fate was no longer our own.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Salvatore continued, his tone chilling in its deliberate calmness. “You will find the ancient scrolls, or I will kill your son, Angelo. Then, I will cut you to pieces and throw you into my poisonous fire.”
The threat hung in the air like a guillotine poised to strike. Failure would mean more than death—it would mean obliteration, a gruesome end too horrifying to comprehend fully.
Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the dim light of the chamber. The chains binding me clinked softly as I shifted, their cold, unyielding embrace a stark reminder of my captivity.
“Not my son,” I choked out, my voice thick with anguish. The heartache constricted my throat, each word a struggle to force past the lump of despair lodged there. “How dare you stand there and threaten him?”
Salvatore’s icy gaze bore into me, his voice as cutting as a blade. “Who saved your boy from Raul’s twisted hands?” he demanded, his words dripping with venom. “Me. And yet you dare to question my rights? He has power now—power that I gave him. That makes him more mine than yours.”
The casual cruelty in his tone was unbearable, each word stripping away the last shreds of my dignity. Anger flared within me, desperate and raw. It surged to the surface, burning away my fear for a fleeting moment.
“If you’re so strong and powerful, why not go after Olivia yourself?” I spat, defiance lacing every word. “Why are we your pawns? I’m sick of being your puppet!”
Salvatore arched an eyebrow, a slow, cruel smile curving his lips. “Why do people have servants?” he said with disdain. “Because they are far more important than those who serve them.” The weight of his contempt was suffocating, pressing down on me like a physical force. “You’re so stupid,” he added, his voice filled with derision. “You were good for one thing only—a quick fuck. Release. A fleeting spurt of pleasure, nothing more. Thank the gods, my sons came from nobility, unlike you.”
A sob caught in my chest, but I forced it back down, refusing to give him the satisfaction. The sting of his words cut deep, but I clung to what little strength I had left.
“I thought there was love between us,” I murmured, the lie bitter on my tongue. The words felt hollow even as I spoke them, an echo of a long-buried hope.
“Love?” Salvatore’s laugh was a blade, scornful and cutting. “You’re nothing but a whore.”
The words struck like a slap to my already battered soul. A reckless fury rose within me, and before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Maybe Lazarus is a stronger and more powerful Shadow Lord than you. Maybe you’re just scrambling in his shadows, desperate to prove your worth.”
The air grew heavy and thick with an oppressive menace. Salvatore’s hand moved in a lazy wave, and suddenly, serpents materialized on the ground. They slithered toward me, their movements deliberate and predatory. Cold scales scraped against my skin as they coiled around my limbs, their intimacy sickening and terrifying. I clenched my jaw, trying to suppress the scream clawing its way up my throat.
“Stop, Alina!” Mathias’ voice broke through, strained and pleading. “Don’t provoke him!”
“Provoked?” Salvatore’s eyes darkened, the storm within them threatening to break. “You think I’m merely provoked?” His voice dropped, ice lacing every word. “I should bring your son here now and slice him up while you watch.”
Fear sliced through my bravado like a knife. I cowered, my reckless courage dissolving. “I’m so sorry, Salvatore,” I stammered, trembling. “I made a mistake.”
The maggots smeared across my skin began to dry, hardening into a grotesque mask that pulled my features into a distorted grimace. My humiliation was complete.
“Indeed, you did,” Salvatore said, his voice as cold as the dungeon walls. “Had you not revealed yourself to your daughter, you’d be basking in luxury instead of rotting in this pit. Find the ancient scrolls, or your life—and your son’s—are forfeit. She must not succeed. Correct?”
“Right,” I whispered, the word tasting of ashes and defeat. “I’ll find them.”
Salvatore’s eyes gleamed with a cruel light, his satisfaction unmistakable. He strode to the center of the room where a massive cauldron sat, its contents unnervingly still.
“You know how important this mission is,” he said, echoing ominously off the damp walls. “We will stop at nothing until I possess those blades and rule the world with darkness and claim ultimate power—forever.”
With a single gesture, he conjured water within the cauldron. The liquid swirled unnaturally, its surface rippling despite the still air. Salvatore’s hand shot out, grasping my wrist in an iron grip. The chains tugged and tore against my raw skin as he pulled me forward. Without warning, a blade flashed, slicing across my palm. Blood welled up and dripped into the cauldron below.
I screamed as Salvatore’s guttural chant filled the chamber, the ancient, unholy syllables resonating like a malevolent hymn. The water’s surface shimmered and rippled, light and shadow weaving together to form an image.
Olivia.
Her form emerged slowly, like a delicate watercolor painting bleeding into life. Her auburn curls cascaded down her shoulders, her eyes bright with the same spark of mischief I remembered from her childhood. A faint, knowing smile played on her lips as though she held a secret she dared no one to uncover.
She traveled through unfamiliar lands with Roman, the baby cradled protectively in her arms. Malik, Reyna, and Rosie flanked her, their expressions a mixture of determination and unease. The backdrop of their journey shifted—a dense forest, a windswept plain, the ruins of an ancient stronghold.
Salvatore’s finger grazed the water’s surface, tracing Olivia’s image with unsettling tenderness.
“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he murmured, his voice softer than I had ever heard.
A surge of jealousy roared through me, hot and venomous. He had never looked at me that way, never spoken to me with such reverence. His gaze on her cruelly reminded me of everything I had never been to him.
Snapping back to the present, Salvatore’s expression hardened.
“I need a darker minion,” he mused aloud, his voice filled with quiet disdain. “You two have been useless. Balthazar would have been perfect for this,” he added, almost as if speaking to himself. “He’s consumed by revenge.”
Mathias’ chains rattled violently as he lunged forward, the slender belladonna branches constricting his arms and torso straining against his movements. His voice broke through the tension, desperate and raw.
“No! I can do the work,” he pleaded, his words echoing through the chamber like a prayer begging to be answered.
“Quiet!” Salvatore snarled, turning on him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I know you can, Mathias. But remember this—Balthazar is nothing now. He doesn’t have his memories. I returned those to you .” His words were a blade, cold and cutting. “He remains lost, trapped within the fragments of his mind.”
“Salvatore, my lord, listen,” I interjected, struggling to keep the tremor from my voice. My chains rattled faintly as I shifted, trying to steady myself. “Mathias and I will find the scrolls. We’ll outpace them all. We’ll succeed.”
“Will you now?” Salvatore’s dark eyes bore into mine, heavy with scrutiny and disdain. The weight of his gaze pressed down on me like a smothering shroud. “If you don’t, Alina,” he said, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper, “I will slaughter everyone you hold dear. And I’ll come for you when you’re alone in your grief.”
The threat hung in the air, sharp and suffocating. Though spoken softly, it roared louder than any shout, each syllable reverberating through the chamber with chilling finality.
“Understood,” I replied, the word barely escaping my lips. My voice was low, but within me, a silent vow flared to life—I would endure for my son. For Angelo. For the flicker of hope that stubbornly refused to be extinguished.
The cold stone beneath me leached the warmth from my body, a cruel reflection of the chill that seemed to permeate my soul. Desperation gripped me as my mind raced for any edge, any chance of survival.
“We need to find Lazarus’ weak spot,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me. “Does he have children?”
Salvatore sneered, his disdain palpable in the dimly lit chamber. “No. Once upon a time, he had a wife, Amara, and a daughter, Theadora. But I saw to their demise myself. They’ve been dead for centuries, by my orders. The only things Lazarus cares for in this forsaken world are Olivia and Roman.”
I summoned what little resolve I had left, my voice trembling but determined. “I promise we will get what you want. We will find the scrolls.”
“Of course you will.” Salvatore’s reply slithered through the air like a serpent coiling around its prey.
Pain erupted across my body as snakes materialized seemingly from the shadows, their scaly bodies slithering around my limbs. I cried out, my struggles futile as they coiled tighter with each frantic movement. Their crushing weight drove the air from my lungs.
“Silence!” Salvatore yelled.
Before I could fully comprehend the command, a cloud of wasps materialized from thin air, descending upon Mathias and me like a nightmare. The wasps crawled across my skin, their tiny stingers puncturing me repeatedly, injecting venom that burned like fire. My face, neck, and limbs swelled grotesquely with throbbing pain, each sting amplifying the agony.
They burrowed beneath my clothing, their stingers finding the most tender, vulnerable places. I writhed helplessly, unable to escape their relentless assault. Beside me, my father let out a guttural sound of pure agony as the wasps inflicted their torment on him as well.
Time blurred. I didn’t know how long we endured the torture, the searing pain making seconds stretch into eternity. And then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the wasps vanished, leaving me drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. My skin pulsed with pain, every inch of me swollen and raw.
Salvatore turned his back on us, his cloak billowing dramatically as he strode toward the dungeon’s heavy iron door. It creaked open, and three small figures stepped into the oppressive chamber.
“Come, my sons,” Salvatore called, his tone chillingly calm.
The boys couldn’t have been older than seven or eight, yet their eyes held a darkness that defied their youth—a reflection of their father’s malevolence. They moved silently, their small forms eerily composed amidst the chaos.
“Did you see, children?” Salvatore asked, his voice calm but filled with menace. “This is how we treat those who defy us.”
He gestured grandly toward Mathias and me, our broken, bloodied forms serving as a grim exhibit. The boys’ gazes flicked to us, unblinking, their expressions devoid of pity or fear.
Satisfied with the lesson, Salvatore and his sons turned and departed, their footsteps echoing faintly down the stone corridor. The heavy door groaned shut behind them, leaving us alone in the suffocating silence of the dungeon. I sagged against my chains, my body trembling as I tried to gather what little strength I had left. My mind raced with dread, wondering what horrors awaited us next in this chamber of doom.