Page 47 of Avidian
His gaze sharpens, but he stays calm, leaning forward slightly. “Last night was a start,” he says, running a hand over his hair, “but trust isn’t about one night or one action.”
I let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose before meeting his eyes again. “What else do you want from me, Malachi? How can I prove myself? And why the hell is this something we need to hash out right now in this creepy old hangar?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“If I take you to my home, if I let you see things there—if I let you into my life—there’s no turning back. No one can know the things you will be privy to.”
I sit back. There’s already no going back, not for me.
“I have nothing to go back to,” I say aloud, studying his face. “That’s the truth. Do you think I can go back to Marco after this? To that prison? After everything? I’ve already crossed the line, Malachi. You don’t see it yet.”
“You say that, and maybe you believe it,” he says finally. “You seem like you’re willing to help me, to do what it takes to take down my father—but you have to see why I hesitate to believe you.”
I feel the heat rising to my cheeks, frustration burning in my chest. “No,” I say even though I want to scream, “I don’t see why you hesitate to believe me. I’ve been nothing but honest with you.”
His jaw tightens, his eyes locked on mine. “My father treats you like you’re more than some prisoner to him,” he says, the words biting. “He treats you like you matter to him. Like there’s something more to your relationship than you’re letting on. He worries about your life more than any of his sons’. He gives you everything—nice clothes, a nice room. The first time we met, for fuck’s sake, you were alone in a park, not even trying to escape.” His voice sharpens, and I can see the questions burning behind his eyes. “How am I supposed to believe you don’t enjoy whatever it is you have with him?”
Something cold and sharp coils in my chest at his words, anger mingling with the raw sting of his accusations. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, trying to keep my emotions in check.
“Then you’re going to have to give me something, Kat. A reason to believe you, to trust you,” Malachi says, like he’s issuing an ultimatum. “If you can’t, that’s fine. I won’t be upset. We’ll go stay in a hotel, you’ll solve the case for Viktor, and in a few weeks I’ll take you back home to Marco.”
He says it so easily, like last night meant nothing. Like none of this matters. The thought makes my chest ache.
Last night meant everything to me,I think bitterly. I was willing to let that creep touch me, willing to do something I’d never done before—something that made me sick to my stomach—to help his mission, to help free the Avids. And now he sits here questioning my loyalty, questioning me as if my relationship with Marco could ever mean more than the chance to truly help people...or the chance at my own freedom.
What kind of deranged shit is he believing right now?
I know what I have to do. What I have to say. What I have to show him. But it’s not something I’m ready for—not this soon. I wasn’t prepared to have this conversation in this drafty old hangar with his eyes boring into me like he’s dissecting my every thought.
My throat starts to burn, and tears threaten to sting my eyes. I can’t let them fall. Not in front of him. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to focus on the physical pain until I feel more grounded. Until I regain some composure.
“I did try to escape, you know,” I finally say, exhaling slowly. “A few times.”
He watches me with that same thoughtful expression, his jaw tightening like he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next.
“The first couple of times, I was caught right away,” I say, my voice steady even though the memories threaten to overwhelm me. “They were poor excuses for attempts. I took a beating for it both times, but it only made me more hard-headed. I was so stubborn, so determined to get away back then.”
I let my gaze drop to my hands, twisting my fingers together in my lap as I continue. “I will admit I did have a sick appreciation for Marco—maybe I still do—because he saved me when he purchased me. He saved me from a place that was far worse than the pretty prison his home became for me.”
I tug my bottom lip into my mouth.
“Being knocked around by Marco’s security the second time fueled a fire inside me. I started plotting. Watching. Learning everything I could about the staff, about Marco’s security detail, the routines, the weak spots. When Marco took me out on my first real job, I thought it might be my chance.” I take a deep breath, the memory of that night still sharp even now.
“I was left alone to contact the spirit, to ‘get comfortable in the scene.’ At least that’s what Marco told his men. And I had spent months plotting, waiting, so when the opportunity came, I couldn’t refuse it. I barricaded the door, snuck out the window, and ran as far as I could. I stumbled across a woman working in her yard, and I begged her for help. She took me in, fed me, gave me water.” The fury I felt back then resurfaces. “But it only took Marco’s men a day to find me.”
Malachi shifts in his seat, sitting up straighter, his attention locked on me. He doesn’t interrupt, but some uneasiness in his eyes suggests he has an idea where this is going.
“You have to understand,” I say, my voice softening, “I was only sixteen at the time. I should have been smarter about it, but I was so desperate to get away that I acted irrationally. I was naive enough to believe I had a chance.”
He exhales, the sound heavy in the confined space of the truck. “What happened when they found you?” he asks. It’s like he doesn’t want to know but feels he has to hear it.
I look away, my stomach churning. “They killed the woman without a second thought then dragged me back to the compound. And Marco... He made sure I’d never try to run again.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “How do you create an obedient pet? How do you make a girl determined to escape stay willingly and obey with a smile on her face?”
Malachi’s expression hardens, his eyes never leaving mine.
“You break her,” I continue, my gaze distant. “You tear her down until she’s ashamed and powerless. But Marco would never dirty his own hands—that would make me hate him even more. No, that’s when I met Orin.”
“Dammit,” Malachi mutters under his breath.
