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He looked at me, head tilted, like maybe he couldn’t read my face. Maybe he couldn’t see that I was already crumbling. I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be now.

He touched the jar, fingers caressing the lid. “I had to. For you, bluebird. He broke you. He tried to ruin you. So I took everything from him. His skin, his tongue, his eyes, his dick. His heart.”

My jaw clenched. The bruises throbbed, like they were still growing under the surface. Every inch of my skin burned with memory. I couldn’t even look at Malakar now, covered in blood. Brandon’s blood. It was splashed up his neck, his arms, even flecks on his face.

He used those hands to cup my cheek. Soft, for a second. Way too soft. “You’re safe now. I made sure of it. He’ll never touch you again. Nobody will.”

I flinched. I didn’t mean to, but the jerk went through my whole body. His gaze darkened, confusion there for a split second, then hurt, then something wild. I saw muscles clench in his jaw, in his shoulders.

“I…I don’t know if I’m safe,” I whispered. “You killed someone, Malakar. You cut out his fucking heart.”

“It was for you.” His voice was jagged, desperate. “Don’t you get it? Nobody else would fight for you like that. Nobody would keep you. Not really keep you.” He squeezed my jaw too hard, fingers digging in, then shook his head. Like he was talking to himself, or to something inside his skull I couldn’t see.

I tried to pull back. His eyes locked onto that.

He let go of my face. Just let it drop. He stood up so suddenly the bed creaked. He started to pace, boots silent on the hospital floor even though he was huge, too real for this place.

“Why aren’t you happy?” His voice cracked so quick, so fragile I almost felt sorry. “I did everything right. I saved you. I saved our baby, I avenged it, I made sure he suffered. I brought you the only thing that still mattered. Why aren’t you happy to see me?”

My head spun. Blood pounded in my ear, behind my eyes. “I’m grateful you helped me,” I whispered. “But this? This is insane. You can’t just kill people because you love me.”

He turned on me. The flash of rage was sudden and horrible. He picked up the cup by my bed and threw it at the whiteboard. Glass and water spun everywhere. I squeaked, curled in on myself, arms over my battered ribs.

“I can do anything I want!” The words came out guttural, torn from somewhere deep. “You belong to me. Nobody else fucking gets to break you. Not even him. Why don’t you see that? Why don’t you love me more for it?”

He towered over me, blocking out the light. The blood on his face made him inhuman, even without a mask.

My heart hammered. “Malakar, please. I’m scared.”

He froze. For a second, he just stared. His chest moved, up and down, up and down. Then something in him broke.

“I don’t want you scared. I don’t want you to pull away. Don’t pull away. Never pull away!” He grabbed my wrist. Ripped out the IV without hesitation. Blood streaked down my arm, but he didn’t care. He was sweating now, trembling all over.

“He can’t have you. They can’t have you. Not even the fucking hospital.” His voice wasn’t real anymore; it was a wild hiss, a scraping sound. He yanked me off the mattress, like I weighed nothing. He’d lost control; he was running on something deeper now, pure panic.

The door groaned open under his hand. My knees barely took my weight. I stumbled in the hallway, the lights drilling into my skull. Everything was spinning. I tried to cry out, but the sound stuck in my throat.

Malakar pulled me down the hall, one giant hand clamped around my wrist, the other wrapped around the jar. My feet dragged across the floor.

Someone in scrubs looked up. Her eyes widened. She took a step back. “Sir, you can’t be here, it’s after visiting⁠—”

He didn’t even pause. His hand dropped mine and lashed out, caught her by the throat. Lifted her straight off the floor. Her feet kicked the wall. She tried to scream, but his grip crushed everything out of her. The sound was just a wet gurgle.

My mind blanked out. I couldn’t even run. I stared, horror freezing me in place.

Her face went purple. He grinned, wide and empty. “Shh. Don’t scare my bluebird,” he whispered into her ear. Then her neck snapped, a dull, squelching sound, and her body slumped in his fist. He dropped her. She crumpled, limbs twisted, head at a horrible angle.

My stomach turned over. I swallowed bile. My body shuddered, but I kept moving. If I stopped, he’d fucking drag me by the hair.

My feet barely touched the tile, knees buckling, ribs screaming in every direction. My gown flapped against my legs. Malakar’s hand clamped around my wrist so hard I thought my bones would snap.

He never slowed. Just plowed through the hallway, dragging me behind like a sack. Somebody stepped out of a room. A nurse, brown hair up in a messy bun, eyes tired and confused. She barely opened her mouth to speak.

“What’s going on? You can’t just⁠—”

Malakar didn’t even let her finish. He barreled into her with his free arm, grabbed her by the shoulder, and slammed her against the wall. There was a wet popping noise. Her head hit the metal rail. Blood smeared across the plastic and dripped down to the floor. She crumpled. She made this awful mewling sound, like a sick cat. Malakar didn’t even look at her. He was all forward motion.

Me, barely hanging on. Air jagged in my lungs. My feet skidded. My body begged to collapse. I couldn’t cry. Couldn’t scream. There was only the force hauling me down the corridor, past the unmoving woman on the floor.