MALACHAI
I never thought I could hate myself more than I already did. But that night, as Ezra gasped and cried in pain, his body writhing under Lucius' cruel hands, I discovered new depths of self-loathing. The sound of his suffering was a blade carving through my chest, each broken sob slicing deeper, leaving wounds that would never heal. I wanted to move. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear Lucius away from him, to shield Ezra from even a second more of this horror. But I didn't.
I stood there. Frozen. Silent. Helpless.
Lucius' order bound me in invisible chains, stronger than steel. My entire body trembled, my fists clenched so tightly my nails cut into my palms. I had never felt so disgusted with myself. I wasn't a hero. I wasn't even a man. I was a coward, too weak to defy the monster I served. And because of that, Ezra suffered.
He sobbed, his breath hitching, his voice breaking as he choked on his own pain. Each sound was a fresh torment, an unbearable melody of agony that would haunt me for the rest of my life. His body shook, his hands curling into fists against the cold floor as if trying to ground himself. My chest ached with something unbearable, something raw and consuming. I wanted to close my eyes, to look away, but I couldn't.
I had to see.
I had to witness every second of his suffering because I deserved to.
Ezra lifted his head just enough to look at me, his tear-filled eyes locking onto mine. That moment shattered me completely.
Betrayal.
Pain.
Disbelief.
I saw it all in his gaze. He didn't scream my name, didn't beg me to save him—he just looked at me, as if silently asking why. Why was I letting this happen? Why wasn't I stopping it? Why was I standing there, watching like I was no better than Lucius himself?
And I had no answer.
My throat was dry, my body paralyzed by something heavier than fear. Guilt. Shame. I was nothing more than a puppet, and Lucius was the hand controlling my every move…or lack of one.
By the time Lucius was done, Ezra was left trembling on the floor, his body curled in on itself, broken in ways I couldn't even begin to comprehend. Blood smeared his skin, staining the floor beneath him, and his breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. He didn't look at me again.
I wanted to go to him. To touch him, to whisper apologies he probably wouldn't want to hear, to do something—anything—to take away even a fraction of his pain. But I couldn't. I didn't deserve to.
So I walked away.
I spent that night staring at my hands, wondering if they would ever feel clean again. No amount of scrubbing could wash away the blood, the sin, the wretched filth of my inaction. The weight of what I had allowed to happen crushed me, suffocating me more than any order Lucius could ever give.
Ezra's cries still echoed in my head, a relentless reminder of what I had done…what I had failed to prevent. Every gasp, every sob, every choked breath, replayed over and over, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. I pressed my hands to my ears, but it didn't matter. The sound was inside me, etched into my soul.
I knew what I had to do.
I had to stay away.
I wasn't protecting him by being near him…I was a danger to him. Lucius saw the way we gravitated toward each other, like two celestial bodies drawn together by an unseen force. That's why he did this. To break Ezra. To break me. And he had succeeded.
I thought about Ezra's lips..soft, inviting, the taste of him still haunting me from that single moment we had stolen together. I thought about his warmth, the way my body had reacted to his presence, the way my heart had recognized him as something more.
But now, I had to bury all of it.
Even if I wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, what would it change? The damage was done.
I had lost him before I even had him.
So I did the only thing I could do. I became a ghost in his world. I stopped looking at him, stopped acknowledging his existence, even though every fiber of my being screamed for him.
Days passed, and I felt the shift. Ezra no longer glanced my way, no longer lingered in my presence. It was like he had erased me, as if I had never mattered at all. It was exactly what I wanted, what I deserved.
And yet, it destroyed me.
I watched from the shadows, aching for him, longing for what could never be. I saw the way he carried himself now, his shoulders heavier, his steps slower. He wasn't the same. Lucius had taken something from him—something he might never get back.
And I had let it happen.
I had hurt him once.
I won't let it happen again.