MALACHAI
I took Ezra home.
Not just any home, my real home. My main house. The mansion no outsider had ever stepped foot into unless they were mine. Truly mine. It was a fortress, a safe haven buried deep within my empire, where my people lived and breathed for me. And now, Ezra was here.
I carried him the entire way inside, refusing to let him walk on his weakened legs. He struggled at first, muttering that he could do it himself, but I ignored him. He was exhausted. His body trembled in my arms, skin too cold, breaths uneven. I wouldn't let him push himself any further. Not after everything.
The room I took him to was the most beautiful one in the entire mansion. Large windows stretched from ceiling to floor, veiled by soft curtains, allowing the moonlight to spill into the space. The walls were painted a deep shade of navy, the bed vast, draped in silk sheets. A fireplace burned on the far side, casting a golden glow over the dark wood floors. Everything was perfect. Perfect for him.
I laid him down gently, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. "Sleep," I murmured, my voice softer than I thought possible.
Ezra blinked up at me, his lips parting as if to say something, but exhaustion won. His eyes fluttered shut, and within seconds, his breathing evened out. He was safe. Finally.
I sat at the edge of the bed, watching him. Just watching. Every breath he took, every slight twitch of his fingers. My hand itched to touch him again, to make sure he was real and not some cruel hallucination conjured by my desperate mind.
Ezra.
My Ezra.
I'd slaughtered men for him. Burned entire legacies to the ground. And I would do it all again, without hesitation.
———
Ezra woke up hours later, his lashes fluttering as he stretched against the silk sheets. The sight of him waking up in my bed sent a warmth through my chest I hadn't felt in years.
He turned his head toward me, his voice thick with sleep. "Where are we?"
"My house. My real one."
Ezra's eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail. His lips parted slightly in awe, but he quickly masked it with indifference. I smirked.
"You like it."
He scoffed, but I saw the hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "It's alright."
I leaned closer, my fingers brushing against his wrist. "You saved Lisa."
Ezra blinked, confused. "Who's Lisa?"
"Elvis' wife"
Realization dawned on his face. "Oh… that's her name?" He shifted slightly, wincing at the soreness in his legs. "Yeah. I helped her escape. Lucius… he…" He stopped, shaking his head as if to clear the memories. "He was going to use her. I couldn't let that happen."
My grip on his wrist tightened. My Ezra. Always so selfless. Even when he could barely walk, he still thought of saving someone else.
Before I could respond, the door burst open.
Elvis.
His eyes were wide with panic, his breath erratic. "My wife just went into labor! You guys need to come with me! I…i don't know what to do!"
Ezra instantly tried to move, but the moment he attempted to stand, his legs gave out beneath him. My heart stopped as he collapsed.
"Ezra!"
I was beside him in seconds, scooping him up before he could hit the floor. He clung to me, his fingers weakly gripping my shirt.
"I'm fine," he muttered. "Just dizzy."
Like hell he was fine.
I didn't give him a choice. I carried him straight to the car, barking orders for the driver to take us to the hospital. Elvis was already in the front seat, his hands shaking as he kept calling his wife's name under his breath.
———
At the hospital, the chaos was unbearable. Nurses rushed past, doctors shouted orders, and Elvis was pacing the halls like a madman.
Ezra was beside me in a wheelchair, his fingers laced tightly with mine. He refused to let go, and I refused to let him.
"She's going to be okay," Ezra whispered, watching Elvis. "She's strong."
I looked down at him, at the way he was still thinking about someone else, even when he should have been resting. My chest tightened.
"You," I murmured, bringing his hand to my lips. "Are the most infuriating, stubborn, beautiful person I've ever met."
Ezra blinked at me, caught off guard. "Malachai…"
I didn't let him finish. I pressed my lips against his knuckles, my grip tightening around his hand. "You're mine," I said, voice low, possessive. "And I'm never letting you go."
Ezra swallowed hard, his eyes shining with something I couldn't quite place. "You're too clingy."
I smirked. "Get used to it."