MALACHAI
The air was thick with the scent of blood.
I knelt on one knee, head bowed, eyes fixed on the marble floor beneath me. The chandelier above flickered, casting jagged shadows across the grand study, but no amount of golden light could warm the ice tightening around my throat.
Lucius was watching me. I could feel it, the weight of his gaze pressing against my skin like a blade at my neck.
"You hesitated."
His voice was smooth, almost lazy, but I wasn't stupid enough to mistake that for mercy. I kept my face blank, fingers twitching against my thigh. I had hesitated—only for a breath—but it had been enough. Enough for him to notice. Enough to put everything at risk.
"My apologies, sir." My voice was steady, controlled. "It won't happen again."
Lucius leaned forward in his chair, his golden eyes gleaming like a predator toying with its prey. "You don't get to hesitate, Malachai. You don't get to think. You do what I ask. You kill when I say kill. If I sense even a flicker of doubt in you again, you know what happens."
I swallowed hard, keeping my jaw clenched. I knew. And it wasn't my life at stake—it was something far worse.
He rose from his chair and closed the distance between us in a slow, deliberate stride. The scent of wine and steel clung to him as he crouched before me, his fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"You were one of my finest," he murmured, almost wistful. "Cold. Precise. Ruthless. But lately…" His grip tightened, nails biting into my skin. "Lately, I sense a softness in you. That's dangerous. Do you know why?"
I kept my mouth shut. He wasn't looking for an answer—he was looking for a reason to break me.
"Because I do not keep things that are broken."
Just like that, he let me go, as if I were nothing. As if he hadn't spent years carving me into his perfect weapon.
"Tonight, you'll prove your loyalty again," he continued, turning back to his desk and pouring himself another drink. "I have a target. No mistakes. No hesitation."
An envelope slid across the polished wood. I reached for it, fingers steady even as something coiled deep in my chest. I didn't need to open it yet. I already knew what would be inside: a name, a face, and the precise way I was meant to take their life.
"Don't disappoint me." His voice was final. "And Malachai… if I suspect, even for a second, that your heart is anywhere other than in this mission, I will rip it out myself."
I stood, gave a curt nod, and turned to leave. My movements were smooth, controlled—exactly as he had trained me to be. But as soon as I stepped into the hallway, the weight of the envelope in my hands felt suffocating.
I didn't have the luxury of doubt. Not if I wanted to protect what mattered most. Not if I wanted to live long enough to understand why, in the quietest moments, my thoughts weren't on Lucius or my next kill.
They were on Ezra.
I clenched my jaw and exhaled sharply. Whatever was happening to me, I had to bury it deep. Because right now, the only thing standing between life and death was the monster Lucius had created.
And monsters didn't hesitate.