Page 53 of Chasing Eternity (Stealing Infinity #3)

Arms outstretched, blood gushing from his neck, Braxton’s father hurls himself at Arthur’s back.

Yet before he can close the gap, Arthur swings around as though expecting the attack and aims his dagger with deadly intent.

I watch in horror as the blade traces a chilling path through the air, finding its mark in the main artery of Braxton’s father’s neck.

His legs buckle, and he collapses to the ground in a heavy, heart-wrenching fall, as Braxton’s scream pierces the air, a harrowing cry that will haunt me forever.

“Okay,” Arthur says, dismissing the life he just ended with a casual shrug. “Now there’s officially no one left to help you. And don’t fool yourself into thinking you can convince Killian. Thanks to you, he’s not long for this world.”

I glance at Killian; his normally sun-tanned face is rapidly turning the color of death.

“If he doesn’t bleed out,” Arthur continues, “then he runs the risk of crossing his own timeline. Either way, the odds are not in his favor.”

I look to Killian who, with a slight nod, confirms that it’s true.

“My God.” I whirl on Arthur. “You’re even worse than I thought. You don’t care about any of us. We’re all just disposable to you. Props you use to get what you want.”

“I’ll kill the kid, too,” he says, further proving my point. “Really, Natasha, it’s yours to decide. You want this to end? Then give me the Star.”

“I will,” I say, in a bid to placate him. “But, as you know, it’s no good on its own. You need a Timekeeper to bring it back to Gray Wolf, and I’m your only viable choice.”

Arthur laughs, and from an inside pocket of his waistcoat, he reveals the Antikythera Mechanism he normally keeps in the Vault. Unfortunately, from what I can tell, it’s the real one.

Great.

As I look at Braxton, his young face streaming with tears as he stares at the crumpled form of his father, my own father’s words sound in my head.

It’s this damned lineage and all that comes with it… People like us don’t get to move through the world with the sort of blissful ignorance everyone else gets to enjoy… A normal life is off the menu for us.

While it may be true, I refuse to give up the fight.

And yet, I cannot let young Braxton die.

Reaching into my pocket, my fingers grab hold of the Star.

Either Braxton will make it to 1901 Greece and succeed in making the switch, or we’ve gravely miscalculated this entire situation.

There’s only one way to find out, and yet, I can’t help but make one last appeal.

“Arthur,” I say, “I know what this is about.”

“Do you?” His gazes sweeps over me, skepticism etched in every line of his face.

“You’ve been grieving for so long now,” I continue, “caught in an infinite cycle of sorrow and self-blame. You believe that by restoring the Antikythera Mechanism, you can undo your errors and set everything right.”

A flicker of astonishment briefly illuminates Arthur’s face, but it vanishes as quickly as it came.

“Hand over the Star,” he demands, pressing the blade’s tip into the tender wound at young Braxton’s neck.

I push past the knot of fear in my throat, forcing myself to go on. “You believe you can reunite with your family and forge a utopia brimming with art, love, and beauty—a world devoid of all suffering.”

Arthur presses his lips together, his attention on me unwavering. “The Star, please.”

Ignoring him, I continue, “But pain is inherent to life—it’s a testament to our freedom of choice. Everyone deserves a world where they can follow their passions, make their own decisions, even if you disdain those choices and consider them banal.”

“This boy is ten seconds away from getting his throat cut—do you truly wish to bear that burden on your conscience?”

No. I absolutely do not. Still, I have no choice but to stall.

“Arthur,” I start, my heart heavy with empathy for his pain, “you’ve managed to overlook one fundamental truth.” I pause, gathering my thoughts in the hope of reaching him, of stopping this tragic cycle of loss. “We recognize the beauty of light only after enduring the darkness.” I allow the words a moment to settle, hoping their significance can somehow take root. “And though I’m deeply sorry for all that you’ve lost—” My voice catches as a figure appears just beyond Arthur’s shoulder. Luckily, he’s too caught up in his own world to take notice. “You still have your daughter Elodie, and—”

Just then, Elodie emerges from the shadows. Taking in the alarming scene unfolding before her, she turns to Arthur and says, “What the hell is going on here?”