Page 21 of Malachai
I opened my mouth to speak—
Then I felt it. A sharp, cold pinch against the side of my neck.
I reached up, confused, my mind sluggish. My fingers brushed against something metallic in his hand. A syringe.
The room suddenly started to tilt violently. The walls blurred.
"Malachai, you fuck ass bit—"
He caught my limp body before I could hit the ground.
"Shh." His lips pressed gently against my hair, his arms wrapping around me securely.
The very last thing I saw before my eyelids failed me was his face. Those gray eyes watching me, completely wide open, filled with something I'd never seen in him before.
Then everything went dark.
Chapter 8
Indigo
My head felt like it had been used for target practice. My thoughts were heavy, foggy, like trying to move through syrup.
I swallowed. My throat was raw.
The last thing I remembered was the sharp pinch of the syringe.
My eyes snapped open.
I was lying on a massive bed covered in cool silk sheets. The room was thick with the scent of sandalwood.
I tried to sit up.
“Don’t.” His voice came from the corner, low and calm.
I didn’t need light to know it was him. I could feel his gaze studying me, heavy as a blade against my skin.
“You drugged me.” My voice came out rough, still tight from where his fingers had been wrapped around my throat earlier.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, the room slowly stabilizing around me. “Why did you drug me, Malachai?”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I needed him to say it out loud—that this wasn’t him finally locking me away for good.
A long silence stretched between us. Then I heard the faint click of a lighter. The orange glow lit the sharp, hollowed-out planesof his face for a split second as he lit his cigar. The flame died, plunging the room back into shadow.
“I’m sorry, Indigo.”
I froze. He actually sounded sorry. In all the years I’d known him, “sorry” had always come out in the same flat tone he used for “thank you”—something he said because he thought he should, not because he meant it.
“I was negligent,” he continued, voice quiet. “I let Sasha think she was more than she was. I let her breathe the same air as you. I wasn’t watching the snake in the grass because I was too busy looking at the horizon. Because of that… the baby is gone.”
He paused.
“Sasha is gone too.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Suddenly I could hear the nurse’s voice again, clinical and cold:There’s no heartbeat.
