Page 28 of Sweet Venom Of Time (Blade of Shadows #6)

I reached for him, my fingers clenching the fabric of his shirt, desperate for something—anything—to anchor me in this maelstrom of evil.

“I can’t breathe,” I gasped, the room spinning dangerously, the stench of blood and burning flesh coiling in my lungs.

Amir shifted closer, his breath warm against my ear, the hushed urgency in his voice slicing through the chaos.

“Elizabeth.” A command. A plea. “You don’t have to be a part of this world. Do you know what the English Timehunter Society is called?”

My heart slammed against my ribs, my breath hitching.

A test. A revelation. A warning.

I turned to him, my eyes wide, searching—begging for something, anything that could make sense of this nightmare.

Amir’s gaze seared into mine, his next words sliding over my skin like ice and fire.

“The Executors of Agony. The Harbingers of Temporal Terror.”

Each syllable dripped with dread, painting the society in strokes of horror darker than I had ever imagined.

A shiver slithered down my spine.

Not just from the words.

But from the way Amir spoke them.

As though he had known them intimately. As though the darkness had already claimed him.

I could feel the weight of the decision pressing against my soul, the suffocating pull of a world that devoured everything good and left only shadows behind.

No.

No.

I would not allow this darkness to engulf me. I would not become another piece in this twisted game.

With a strength born of fury, I straightened, my fingers releasing Amir’s shirt as I lifted my chin and met his gaze head-on.

“Yes,” I said, my voice a blade of ice. “I will be a part of this society.”

Amir’s expression shifted—not shock, not anger, but something more dangerous. Something unreadable.

I inhaled sharply, letting the rage crystallize into something lethal, something deadly.

“I will make a poison powerful enough to destroy men like you, my father, and Lord Winston.”

The words fell between us like a guillotine’s blade.

A declaration of war.

A vow of vengeance.

And yet—Amir didn’t flinch.

Instead, he shifted, moving closer, his heat brushing against my side like a whisper of danger. His voice was low, husky, intimate when he spoke—the kind of sound that sent tremors through my body for all the wrong reasons.

“You should indeed kill me, my love,” he murmured.

My love.

The words coiled around my heart like a snake, their weight suffocating and intoxicating.

“Because I am darkness. A ruthless killer.”

The sentence struck like a thunderclap, shattering through my mind.

A memory. A voice. The Black Wraith.

He had said those exact words to me.

I spun around, the realization scorching through my veins like wildfire.

“You—your voice…” The accusation clawed at my throat. “You’re the masked man. The Black Wraith.”

Amir stilled. Then—he laughed.

A sound like silk and steel, smooth, cold, laced with mockery.

His laughter was a sinister caress, curling through the air, settling over me like a shadow.

“Oh, darling,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “You think I’m the Black Wraith?”

The air between us thickened, charged with something dangerous.

His dark gaze swept over me, lingering, calculating, devouring.

“I detest that creature with every fiber of my existence.”

He stepped closer. Too close.

“I would never choose to be him,” he continued his voice a blade disguised as velvet. “Especially considering your father and I are hunting him. Unless of course… you happen to know where he is?”

His fingers traced the blood vessel at my throat.

I shivered.

The pressure was light, teasing—a silent warning.

His gaze was heavy-lidded, dark, his lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Or maybe…” He leaned in, his breath warm against my skin. “Maybe you’ve been in contact with him?”

His fingertip skimmed along my cheek, an agonizingly slow touch.

“Tell me, Elizabeth,” he murmured, his voice a phantom against my ear. “Are you the one responsible for creating the poison that claimed countless lives in France?”

My breath hitched.

My eyelids fluttered shut.

The touch, the voice, the danger—it overwhelmed me.

“No.”

The word barely escaped, lost in the shadow of his question.

But he wasn’t done.

His lips hovered near mine, the space between us shrinking to a fraction—a breath, a heartbeat, a whisper of inevitability.

“You came to me begging for help, Elizabeth, and now, you stand before me, declaring your allegiance to your father’s society and planning to annihilate us all.”

His fingers curled at my jaw, tilting my face just enough to force me to meet his gaze.

“Are you truly working with the Black Wraith? Are you plotting our downfall?”

His voice was a velvet snare, each syllable laced with something dark, seductive, and lethal.

A dare.

A moment that could change everything.

But I did not waver.

I lifted my chin, locking my gaze onto Amir’s, meeting the storm within his eyes with steely determination.

“I have never met the Black Wraith, Lord Hassan.” My voice was steady, my words intent. “Nor do I have any intention of joining forces with him.”

Amir studied me, his gaze narrowing, searching for weakness, lies, something I refused to give him.

The silence between us stretched, taut as a bowstring, humming with unspoken words.

Then—a flicker of something unreadable passed over his features. Dismissal. Amusement. Disdain.

With a casual glance at the brutal spectacle unfolding before us, he exhaled, his next words delivered with chilling indifference.

“Leave such matters to the men.”

And then—he turned.

Without hesitation, without a second glance, he strode from the chamber, his silhouette swallowed by the shadows.

Leaving me behind.

Leaving me with the echo of his words, the weight of his arrogance pressing against my skin like a brand.

My breath trembled, but I did not break.

I would not break.

I stood there, surrounded by the stench of blood, by the sounds of suffering, and felt something hardening inside me.

Steel in my chest. Fire in my veins.

My lips parted, my voice a whisper of vengeance in the darkness.

“I will try with all my power to kill Lord Winston. This society. My father. And…”

The final name burned on my tongue, too bitter to swallow.

My voice broke.

I could not say it.

Amir.

Because even now—as I swore to end them all—his touch still lingered on my skin.

And I hated that I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to kill him…

Or save him.