Dad hopped up the last step and limped into thekitchen. Once inside, Malachi guided him to his chair and let him drop with a careful thud before shutting the door and turning the lock.
Dad shifted his weight and groaned, trying—and failing—to find a comfortable position.
“Should you go to hospital?” Malachi crouched and tugged the bandage aside just enough to inspect the wound. Blood soaked through, dark and slick against Ina’s makeshift dressing.
“Absolutely not.” Dad shook his head “There’ll be too many questions if we go to Latharna General.” He jabbed his finger against the table for emphasis. “If you’re ever injured and not dying, come home and Ina will patch you up.”
Malachi blinked. No doctors, of course not. Just another rule passed down without ceremony. A quiet understanding meant to stay inside these walls.
He nodded once. The rule slotted neatly into place alongside everything else he’d learned tonight.
“Where is Ina?” He glanced down the hall. Light spilled from the office. “The Hideaway?”
“Probably putting the weapons away.” Dad sank deeper into his chair, puffing out his cheeks as the effort caught up with him. “Never leave a weapon out in the open. You never know who might see it.”
Malachi nodded. That made sense.
Unsure what else to do, he filled the kettle and flicked the switch. So much of their life had been spent in this kitchen drinking tea. And yet something had always felt off, like his family were never fully present.
Dad and Ina had been having silent conversations for years. Now he finally understood why. He could even understand why they hadn’t told him—fear, protection,even habit to an extent. But never again. He wouldn’t let himself be on the outside anymore. If this was their world, then he was stepping into it alongside them.
Malachi leaned against the countertop and looked out the window. The river flowed past, steady as always. The first touches of the dawning light glimmered across the surface. Riverside looked peaceful now there were no monsters lurking in the water. For the first time since Rhys had died, the water didn’t make his chest tighten.
“Erm, Mal?” Dad clicked his fingers, snapping him back to reality. “You wanna pass me the first aid box and some painkillers?”
Malachi turned, grabbed the box from the cupboard and, without thinking, lobbed it across the kitchen.
“Argh!” Dad barked as it smacked straight into his injured leg and clattered to the floor.
“Sorry, sorry!” Malachi ran over, scooped it up and set it on the table with the painkillers “Do you want me to sort that out?” He gestured vaguely at the bandage; fully aware that he didn’t have the faintest idea how to sort it.
“It’s okay.” Dad shooed him away and rummaged around the kit, pulling out a packet of antiseptic wipes. “I’ve got it.”
“Is this why we have such a massive medical kit?” Malachi raised an eyebrow.
Dad huffed a quiet laugh and dry-swallowed a couple of painkillers like it was nothing. “You’ve no idea, son.” His eyes met Malachi’s and stayed there. “But you will soon.”
Malachi didn’t look away. Neither of them spoke. There was no lecture or warning. Just an unspoken understanding settling into place. Dad wasn’t shutting him out anymore. He was letting him in. That was enough, for now.
Ina closed the door of the office behind herwith a soft click and made her way into the kitchen. “There’s biscuits in the cupboard,” she sighed, lowering herself into her seat. She leaned forward and peered beneath the table at Dad’s leg. “You’ll live. I’ve seen worse.”
“Bloody Nurse Ina.” Dad rolled his eyes and cleaned the wound. “Your contact at the hospital comes in handy. I’ll give you that.”
Malachi set out three mugs. Ina had retired from the hospital not long after Rhys died—that much he’d always known. She’d kept one foot in that world as well and used it for information. Another layer to his family he hadn’t known existed.
Ina poured the tea and set Dad’s mug down harder than necessary. The air tightened—one wrong word away from an argument.
Malachi didn’t have the energy for it. Not after everything that happened tonight.
“You can say it, if it will make you feel better.” Dad’s lips curled into a smile. “It might take that sour look off your face.”
“You let them live,” Ina snapped, crossing her arms and legs tight.
Malachi grabbed the biscuits, and sat, eyes flicking between them. Whatever this was, he was going to be a part of it.
“I did.” Dad wrapped both hands around his mug. “Have you any thoughts about that?”
Ina exhaled, long and slow. “If it were up to me…” She trailed off, then shook her head. “I don’t know if I would’ve let them go.”
