“It’s Alice,” he continues. “She’s behind more than we knew. The auctions. The society. She wasn’t just working with Donovan. She was running the show. But she’s not in Willowridge, not anymore. This town’s just one of her ports. Her base is in Savannah. That’s where she’s headed now.”
A coldness floods my chest, crawling up my spine. A big part of me hoped, really hoped, that maybe she was just lost. Damaged. Not evil. But this? This is something else.
The cold that slices through the room has nothing to do with the weather. A part of me had clung to the impossible, some thread of denial that maybe I’d gotten it wrong. Maybe she wasn’t the monster I feared she was. But I know better now. She didn’t vanish. She evolved. Into something worse.
Malachi’s jaw clenches as he steps forward, bracing himself for what comes next.
“There’s more,” he says. “Donovan knew what happened to my brother and sister.”
Everyone turns toward him, eyes narrowing, waiting.
“My siblings,” Malachi says, voice low. “The night Cornelius was killed, he was trying to save them. Jared and Amelia. Cornelius had been working behind the scenes to get me legal guardianship, to keep them with family. But Jared got lured to the docks because someone promised him a quick high. Amelia followed him, tried to stop him. That’s when they were taken.”
His jaw tightens. “Cornelius figured it out. Saw the ties between Donovan and Graves. He realized what the docks were really used for. Trafficking. He went there to stop it. To save them. But he was too late. They were gone. And he was killed trying to stop it.”
Malachi’s voice falters as he talks about his siblings, but it’s Darla’s reaction that draws my attention. She goes pale, her fingers curling into the edge of the couch cushion, gripping hard to keep something buried. Her eyes flick to East, wide and wet, but she doesn’t speak.
East doesn’t hesitate. He moves to her without saying a word, sits beside her, and gently covers her clenched hand with his. She doesn’t pull away.
There’s nothing dramatic, no tears or gasps, but the tension between them shifts. Something opens. Softens. The way her shoulder leans slightly into his makes it clear this hit her deep. And he felt it too. He doesn’t let go. I get it. More than I want to admit. Graves is her father, the same man tied to all of this. I see it now, that familiar ache in her eyes. The one I used to see in the mirror.
Malachi’s eyes lift, shadowed with something darker than grief. “Donovan knew where they were. Said my sister ended up in Savannah, alive. Trapped in Alice’s network. My brother…” His voice trails off before he finds it again. “He was sold off. To someone powerful. Someone who made sure I’d never find him.” Silence blankets the room in the hush of falling snow.
“If Alice is in Savannah,” he finishes, “then that’s where I look next. That’s where I’ll find my siblings. That’s where I start putting the pieces back together.”
No one breathes. I feel it, that shift, a current moving beneath the floorboards. This isn’t revenge anymore. It’s resurrection. And finally bringing the ones he loves home.
The clubhouse slowly begins to clear. Sloane and Knox leave first, quietly slipping out together, Sloane’s hand tucked into her husband’s. Maggie and James follow not long after, James muttering about the pain meds making him feel useless and Maggie rolling her eyes with the practiced patience of someone who’s heard it all before. East and Darla exchange a glance,charged, full of something unspoken, and leave together without saying a word.
Ruby and Kyle decide to stay. They each claim a couch, Ruby throwing a blanket over herself and tossing Kyle a pillow with a grin. “No snoring or I’m kicking you,” she mutters. He just smirks and closes his eyes. Nash snorts, barely audible. The corners of Ruby’s mouth twitch, but she doesn’t look at him. That’s how I know she wanted to.
Then it’s just me and Malachi. He glances at me, his jaw slackening just slightly, the weight he’s been carrying easing now that the room is empty.
“Come on,” he murmurs. That low rumble sinks into my bones. I nod before I know why. I follow him up the stairs, the creak of each step oddly comforting. Familiar. The distance between us is short. But the air? It’s heavy with everything unsaid.
In his room, he moves with the exhaustion of a man unraveling. Peels off his bloodstained shirt, tosses it in the corner, and walks to the small bar in the corner. Pours himself a double of something amber and potent. I don’t say anything as he drinks.
Then he looks over at me, finally letting the mask slip just a little. He lets out a breath, slow and heavy, as if the weight of the whole damn day is pressing against his ribs.
“You were right,” I whisper, the words raw in my throat. “People like her… like Donovan… they always find a way to come back.”
His eyes don’t leave mine. “Yeah,” he says. “But so do we.”
That makes my chest tighten. It’s not a comfort, it’s a quiet, stubborn truth. The kind that doesn’t promise peace, only persistence.
“We’re still here,” he says, softer now. I hear what he really means. Not just alive. Not just breathing. But standing. Aftereverything. Scarred, shaken, but still standing. And not alone this time.
My throat threatens to close up again. I nod, a small tremble in the motion. “We are.”
He steps closer. For a second, I think I’m going to crumble. Then his arms wrap around me, solid, grounding, warm, and everything inside me breaks and mends in the same breath. Because yeah, monsters come back. But so do we. Maybe that’s what makes us dangerous.
Chapter 55
Malachi
Six Months Later
Sixmonthscanburya lot of things. Blood. Secrets. Even grief, if you work hard enough at it. But not purpose. Purpose digs in deeper.
