Page 70 of Malachai
Daddy looked absolutely furious. “Boy—”
Cooly lifted a single hand, never taking his eyes off my face. “She doesn't want to,” he said, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “I'm not Malachai.”
Then, without a warning, Cooly leaned down suddenly, grabbed my face gently between his palms, and kissed me. It was completely different from the way Malachai kissed me. There was no violence, no territorial force—it was soft, almost reverent.
My breath caught from pure shock, my body locking up.
He pulled back before I could even find the leverage to push him away. His lips brushed the shell of my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “It was nice while it lasted, Midnight. If you ever need me… call me.”
He straightened up, glancing at Daddy and Zaire casually. “I'll leave you and your son to discuss the rest.”
He let go of my jaw, turned on his heel, and walked straight out of the office without a single look back. The heavy door clicked firmly shut behind him.
Then—
POP.
The sharp, deafening sound of a gun being fired exploded through the small room. My eyes snapped shut as the noise tore through my ears, my mind instantly convincing me that Daddy had actually pulled the trigger on me.
For one agonizing second, I waited for the pain.
Waited for the burning tear of the metal.
The blood.
The cold.
Nothing came.
Chapter 40
Indigo
I opened my eyes just in time to watch Daddy suddenly stand and stagger back.
Zaire stood right beside me, his gun out, gray smoke curling from the barrel. Daddy dropped his pistol with a heavy, hollow thud against the floor. Blood spread fast across his white linen shirt as he fell back into his chair, the air leaving his lungs in a wet, ragged gasp.
Zoe didn’t react; she just stood there with her arms crossed, shifting her weight slightly as if she were completely bored, like she had already known exactly what was coming.
I froze, my mouth hanging open, my pulse thundering in my throat.
Daddy looked down at the blood soaking his stomach like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He didn't panic. He didn't beg. He tried to press his hand flat to the wound, his fingers trembling and slick with crimson, but when he lifted his head, his eyes were pure, venomous ice. He slowly fixed his gaze on Zaire, hissing through his teeth.
“Why…?” he asked, his voice a weak, gurgling rasp, but laced with a terrifying, unyielding malice. “Mi son… why? Yuh weak, backstabbing little bwoy.”
Zaire didn’t even blink. He reached up and slowly wiped a small spray of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving the old man’s face.
“Why?” he repeated, cold as hell. “Because I hate you. I hated you and your worthless ass son. You let that bitch Omnira kill my momma while you watched. You sold off my sister like she was property. Treated her like a fucking chess piece.”
Daddy spat a mouthful of thick blood onto the edge of his mahogany desk, leaving a wet, crimson stain. “Your mother was a weak, soft gyal,” he snarled, his voice rattling violently in his throat but losing none of its raw cruelty. “And you... yuh just like her. A coward shooting an old man from the dark. Indigo is a pawn because she have no belly for this life! I build this empire... yuh can't hold it, bwoy. It will crush yuh.”
My brain finally caught up. I didn’t feel any type of grief watching Daddy bleed out, but Zaire's sudden hypocrisy vexed me to the marrow.
“You watched all of that with the type of indifference that bordered on—”
Zaire cut me off, snapping his head toward me with a look so sharp I felt it in my chest.
“What power did I have, Indigo?” He grabbed the edge of the desk, leaning down until he was inches from Daddy’s fading, hateful eyes. “I played the long game. I got good at pretending. Waited for him to give me everything. I stayed silent, and I held that shit in my chest like a poison so you could dance. So you could throw fits and break shit and feel like you were rebelling. You think I wanted to watch you be married off? You’re my little sister. That shit hurt me to hold my tongue. Not kill Malachai's ass. Crazy ass thinks everybody is scared of him, like he's the fucking boogeyman.”
