Now, I don’t have to do that alone.
Neither does he.
“You look tired, baby,” falls out of me. He stares at me, tilts his head about, smirks. “Why don’t you go and sleep.” I walk onwards until I’m in front of Damien, trying to imprint every cut, every bruise, every torn and tattered layer of clothing into my memory. That’s what my Malachi did for me. For us. He did it to vent his anger. To appease his frustration. To show his vengeance had a home to live in. Mine does, too. It isn’t over yet.
Spit and phlegm fly from my lips and land exactly where I want it to be. His hand moves to wipe it. “Don’t you fucking dare touch that. Leave it where it is.” He looks between me and the man behind me, so I get in his face some more. I don’t have anything else to say, I just want him to see me – to see a woman that he helped to annihilate for a while. I’ve survived, though.
And now I’m becoming more than I ever was before any of this.
A hand to the back of my neck pulls me backwards, fingers pinching in like they always do. He kisses the top of my head when I get back to his body, tightens his hold on my hip bone, and I watch as Brandon steps out of the door. Damien leaves before any one of us manages to say or think anything else. I’m not sure there’s much else to say or think anyway. That part is done. And the man who holds the key to the next part is still holding me firm.
“Baby?” he says.
I chuckle a little. “Your face was quite funny.”
“Don’t ever call me that again.”
“Fine. Stop using Ally cat as a show of your fucking displeasure.”
“Agreed. Doesn’t suit this version of you, anyway.” He lets go of my neck, then looks at Brett and Brandon. “Where’s Whit?”
Brett walks forward. “He said he’d be back later to pick us up.”
“Good. Neither of us want to know where you’re going so don’t tell us.” He looks confused, as Malachi moves. “Do you need money?” I doubt Brett knows what to do with that question. “Of course you do.” He walks over to a cupboard in the corner of the room, pulls a bag out of it and passes it to Brandon. “I’m assuming you’re the more intelligent of the two.”
“Hey!” I cut in.
“This cash only, including Whit.”
“Where are we going?” Brandon asks.
“Good. You don’t know either. Away from here, Brandon. Both of you,” Malachi says.
“Ally?” Brett asks, confused.
“No. I’ve got something else to do. Don’t worry.”
They both look worried.
For once, and as far as I’m concerned, they needn’t be. Whatever happens after this, one thing I know for sure is they’ll be alright. If nothing else, my brothers will be safe for the rest of their life. Malachi will make sure of it regardless of me.
~
The farewell between us is short and sweet when the evening comes. I don’t have the ability for any more than that. Tears and hugs and me clinging on to them won’t stop what needs to happen, neither will trying to get me to go with them. They just need to go, to be looked after and taken somewhere so I don’t have to worry about them in the middle of this.
Whit looks pissed off as they all get into a car. I get it. It’s still not changing my mind, though. Malachi is my answer to this. Somehow. Although, I look at him as they start pulling away, we haven’t discussed how any of it is going to happen.
“They’ll be fine,” he says, as I look at the car leaving.
“I know. If anyone can disappear, it’s Whit.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just leads me back into the house and heads for the stairs.
And then keeps going past the first floor.
I follow, unsure what else to do or say. He’s been gone most of the day – at his wife’s funeral. I didn’t go. Refused. There’s being in Malachi’s freaky ass world, and then there’s disrespecting the dead even if I did kill her. Still can’t remember it entirely, nor do I want to. It hurts, though. I’ve done nothing else most of the day than worry and flounder in an odd sense of grief while he was there. I didn’t feel it with Tommy all those years ago. I felt empowered by it, as if it was somehow sanctioned. But this feeling is different. Not guilt. Malachi’s reaction has helped that. Maybe remorse. Or at least recognition of blame for someone’s life ending.
And I guess part of me has worried all day about Malachi still feeling the same after burying her. Funerals usually change everything. They drag up memories, make the moment real rather than trying to ignore the facts. Maybe the end’s coming now. He’ll say it’s over and we’re done, other than dealing with Greene maybe. Surely he would have sent me off with Whit if he wasn’t going to help with that bit still. I don’t know, but I’d get it if he did finish this now.
