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Aye, and with a closed book, Olivia and I have little more than a dangerous life on the run. And I am still uncertain where Gray’s loyalties truly lie. My “wife” deserves to know.
Gritting my teeth, I send the group a sharp nod. “What must we do?”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Bram sends me a last glance. “All right, then. Gray, you will hold your key in your right hand. Olivia will hold hers in her own. Marrok will stand between you. I will steady the book on the table. No one else is to touch it except to insert their key. We will discuss next steps once the diary is open. Are we clear?”
“Indeed.” Richard nods eagerly.
Dread gnaws at my gut. Though Richard says naught that sounds outright suspicious, and I see the logic of acting before we are attacked by the Anarki, none of that eases my worry.
Outside, rain begins to fall, wind lashing branches against the window. During my boyhood, the weather would have been perceived as a bad omen. The old superstitions are not always wrong.
I blow out a steadying breath and situate myself between Richard and Olivia, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her tight against me. I like none of this and seek for any way to ensure Gray can do her no wrong. Olivia meets my stare. The fear and sadness there wrenches me before her gaze skitters away.
Whatever upsets or disturbs her, I cannot let it continue.
“Give us a moment,” I insist to Bram and Gray.
“We can’t wait,” Olivia’s father insists. “I feel Mathias breathing down my neck.”
In case these are the final ticks of the clock with the only woman I have ever given my heart, I will not leave her without saying goodbye.
But Olivia shakes her head. “There’s nothing to say. Marrok, you need and deserve this. Just do it.”
Bram nods. “Gray, on the count of three, you will latch your emblem onto the front of the book, into the fitted grooves. Olivia, once he’s finished, you will lay yours on top. She—and no one else—will open the book. And I will stun anyone who breaks protocol.”
Gray nods. “Let’s hurry. I’m on borrowed time.”
“If you really did steal that key from Mathias, I’m surprised he’s not already beating down my door. One…” Bram begins.
I clasp Olivia even tighter. “Stay close to me. I will not let you go.”
She tenses. Her lips quiver as if she tries—and fails—not to cry.
“Love—”
“No.” She shakes her head.
“Two…” Bram continues as I growl under my breath at my stubborn “wife.”
As Gray leans forward, emblem in his outstretched hand, Bram clutches the book in a white-knuckled grip.
“Three.”
Olivia’s sire lays his emblem into the sunken track. The key falls into place with a barely audible click.
“Good,” Bram mutters, then turns. “Olivia?”
Lips pursed in concentration, she repeats the process, latching her half of the key into place. With a soft snick, it fastens over Richard’s M.
Suddenly, the book lurches into Olivia’s hand, pulsing with an energy all its own. It beats in a rhythm, like a heartbeat. Beside her, the power that once cursed me slams into my body. The surge scalds my skin as she wrenches the book open.
The smell of old paper fills the air as the spine cracks with age. Yet the pages hum with undeniable life. A sudden wind blasts the room. Page after page—most of them blank—flap in an inexplicable gust.
“Unreal…” Bram breathes.
“I feel a spark. It’s a rush. My veins are on fire.” Olivia grips the volume as if she’s afraid to let go.
