Jav doesn’t say a word.
But the fire in his eyes promises storms.
CHAPTER 48
JAV
The air outside the apartment complex is cold enough to bite.
Haven-7 never really sleeps, but tonight, even the street lamps seem to hold their breath.
Maliek’s waiting by the corner post, coat collar up, a sleek compad in one hand like a prop he hopes makes him look powerful. His reflection shimmers faint in the glass of the lobby door, a shadow stitched out of ambition and bitterness.
I step out onto the pavement.
He turns, smirking like a man who’s been rehearsing this confrontation all day. “Mr. Kuraken,” he says. “Or should I call you Jav? I never know which name you’re hiding behind these days.”
I stop two feet from him. No raised voice. No heat. I just meet his gaze until that smugness wavers a hair.
“You’re up late,” I say.
“Had paperwork to drop off,” he replies, tapping the folder under his arm. “You’ll want to read it carefully. It’s a custody petition. Filed legally, of course. You’ve got a reputation, after all—I thought you’d appreciate doing this the right way for once.”
His words are a test, little hooks he’s throwing out, hoping I’ll bite.
I don’t.
I step closer, until the distance between us is measured in heartbeats.
"Go ahead," I say, voice low and dangerous. "File the petition. Request the DNA panel. Do it."
Maliek blinks, his smirk faltering. "You think I won't?"
"I’m counting on it," I say. "Because I don’t need a chip to tell me what’s in his blood. I felt it the second I held him. He’s mine, Maliek. You want to bet your career on a paternity test against a Grolgath? Be my guest."
Maliek stares at me, color rising in his cheeks. He knows I’m not bluffing.
“You think this changes anything?”
“I think it changes everything,” I say. “You’ve been playing house with my family, Maliek. But the game’s over.”
His laugh is small and brittle. “You think you can just waltz in after all these years and be the hero? You’re a criminal, Jav. You’re the reason she had to raise that boy alone.”
The words land hard, but I don’t flinch. He wants a reaction. Wants to drag me back into the blood and fire.
Not tonight.
“You’re right,” I say simply. “I’m a lot of things. But I’m his father. That’s not something you can file paperwork over.”
I take a step closer—slow, deliberate. Not threatening. Just presence.
“And between us,” I murmur, “you might want to think about why a kid you claim to care about runs to me when he’s scared instead of you.”
His jaw locks.
“You don’t get to?—”
“I don’twantto fight you,” I interrupt. “I’m done with fighting. But if you ever scare them again—if you ever use the law to try and own them—I will make sure every court on this planet remembers who you really are.”
