Page 106 of Avidian
I don’t bother hiding my disgust. I let him see exactly how I feel about him. His gaze lingers on me, assessing, calculating, before his lips curl into a slow, sinister smile.
“Isn’t this a pretty picture? My demon falling for my son. And you,” he adds, addressing Malachi, “what do you think you are? Her savior? Do you even know what you’re doing?”
“I’m sorry, Father,” Malachi says, stepping back, his jaw tight with barely restrained fury. “But I’ll be taking more than your pet tonight. Let’s start with your life.”
I snap my head toward him, my heart lurching. Is he serious? Is he really going to do it?
Marco chuckles, the sound hollow and biting, as though he can’t fathom the possibility. “You’re not going to kill me,” he says with smug certainty. “You don’t have what it takes. I was telling Katja how you have too much heart. You always have.”
He leans back in the chair, not even trying to break free of the restraints, dark amusement dancing in his eyes, like he’s toying with us even now. But there’s something Marco isn’t seeing—something he’s underestimating. Because the look on Malachi’s face isn’t hesitation. It’s cold, calculated rage.
I wonder if Marco’s wrong. Maybe Malachi does have what it takes. Maybe he’s had it all along.
“What does ‘where the wolves prowl’ mean?” Malachi demands.
I add, “And what the hell were those creatures near Jamie’s hunting cabin? Those weren’t wolves—those were monsters. What did you do to them?”
Marco looks casually at the fire, his expression infuriatingly calm, as if we’re discussing the weather. “You two have been busy. Dare I say, you might even make a good team. A pity you’re so determined to choose the wrong side.”
I roll my eyes. More games. More riddles. I want answers, not another fucking monologue.
Malachi doesn’t give Marco a chance to play coy. In one fluid motion, he pulls out a knife and drives it into Marco’s thigh. The blade sinks in deep, the sickening squish of metal against flesh making my stomach twist. Marco grunts, his fingers curling around the arms of his chair. Shock flashes across his face for a moment before something twisted takes its place—a laugh. Dark and low, it spills out of him like poison.
“Do you really think I don’t know what my sister’s been up to?” Marco’s voice is a rasp of mock amusement, his teeth bared in a twisted grin. “You think I don’t have someone on the inside? That I haven’t been watching you and your Solacepet project? Why do you think I let it go on so long?” He leans forward slightly, despite the knife still lodged in his leg, like he’s sharing some grand secret. “I allowed it because it benefits me. The Syndicate might be changing science, but don’t think for a second I’m not ahead of the curve. I have my own creations—ones you haven’t even begun to comprehend.”
Malachi’s jaw visibly tightens, and I cross my arms, stepping closer. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re two steps behind.”
Marco chuckles again, the sound more unhinged this time—like he’s teetering on the edge of sanity. “You think you’ve won? You haven’t even seen the board yet, girl. You haven’t seen the bigger picture.” He tips his head back, that guttural laugh sending goosebumps across my flesh.
It’s unnerving. I’ve never seen Marco this animated, this alive. Maybe it’s the drugs still running through his veins—or maybe it’s because he knows something we don’t. But beneath that deranged amusement, I see a man who knows his time is running out.
And I don’t plan on letting him die before he tells us everything.
“Why didn’t we find anything at the cabin?” Malachi asks, his gaze fixed on Marco.
Marco doesn’t flinch. “Son, you should’ve looked harder. I got the idea from you and the Depths, after all,” he says, shrugging what he can of his shoulders in his restraints.
I shake my head, disbelief creeping in. How did we miss it? The underground operation, hidden beneath our noses? We would’ve figured it out eventually, but time wasn’t on our side, and fucking Orin had to show up. I push the frustration aside, focus returning to the present.
Malachi opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, a knock echoes through the room. The door swings open, and in stepsa woman with long black hair, clad in the same tactical gear as Malachi. My heart stutters, and I can’t help but wonder. Is this the same woman who helped us save Aurora that night in the snow?
“Boss, the property’s secure. Everyone’s loaded up and waiting on your orders,” she says.
Malachi nods in acknowledgment, but his mind is elsewhere. “What about my brothers?”
She shakes her head, her expression cold. “No sign of them. They bailed the second they sensed trouble.”
I want to laugh. Fucking cowards, both of them.
“We should probably leave soon, before reinforcements show up,” she adds, the obvious truth hanging between us. Malachi nods in agreement, turning to walk back toward me as she exits.
Marco’s voice cuts through the tension. “You’re running out of time, son. And I don’t think you’ve got what it takes to do it. My leg may be one thing, but can you really put that knife through my heart?”
Malachi looks at me, his gaze intense. “I don’t have to have what it takes. Because she does.”
For a moment, time stills. I blink, my pulse quickening as the weight of what he’s saying sinks in. Malachi reaches out, his hand gently cupping my face. He faces me fully, ignoring Marco completely.
“Do you want this?” he asks, his voice low, the question hanging in the air between us. “After everything he’s done to you, say the word, and it’s yours. If not, I’ll handle it for both of us.”
