CHAPTER 38: CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Malachi’s POV

After finalizing the arrangements with the team, I left headquarters with Maurice while Dante and Mavis stayed behind to coordinate further details with Violet and Rose.

The plan was in motion. Sophie would be extracted within forty-eight hours. Her father would be dealt with shortly after. Everything was moving according to schedule.

So why did I still feel like I was losing control?

Because of her. Because Alicia had burrowed so deep under my skin that I couldn’t think straight anymore. Couldn’t plan without factoring her into every equation. Couldn’t breathe without wondering if she was okay.

I’d become exactly what I swore I’d never be again—vulnerable.

The drive back to the hotel should have been routine. Should have given me time to think. To strategize. To prepare for the conversation I’d inevitably need to have with Alicia about what I’d discovered.

Instead, I found myself staring out the window, jaw clenched, fingers drumming against my thigh with barely restrained tension.

Maurice kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror. I could feel his eyes. Feel the weight of whatever he wanted to say but was too cautious to voice.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

"Spit it out, Maurice."

He cleared his throat. Hesitated. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"Sir, there’s something you should know."

"I’m listening."

"Mrs. Blackwood—Alicia—she was out all day today." Another hesitation. "She sold several items. Jewelry. A watch. Other valuables from her marriage."

My blood went cold. "What?"

"She’s been liquidating assets, sir. Converting everything to cash. My contacts at various pawn shops and jewelry dealers confirmed it. She’s raised approximately twenty-three million dollars."

The world tilted.

Twenty-three million. Almost half of what her father demanded.

She was trying to do it alone. Trying to save her sister by selling every piece of herself she had left.

Foolish, stubborn, impossible woman.

Rage detonated in my chest—not at her, but at the situation. At her father for putting her in this position. At Travis for never giving her anything that was truly hers. At myself for not moving faster.

"Turn around." My voice came out cold. Controlled. The only way I could speak when fury was threatening to consume rational thought.

"Sir?"

"Buy back everything she sold. Every piece. I don’t care what it costs. Put it all in her name. Legitimate ownership. Not family property. Hers."

"Yes, sir." Maurice’s voice carried relief. Like he’d been waiting for this order. "And the money she raised?"

"Leave it in her accounts. She worked for it." Even if the work was destroying herself piece by piece.

"Understood."

I stared out the window, watching the city blur past, my mind racing.

She was so desperate to be independent. So determined not to need anyone. It was going to destroy her.

And I couldn’t let that happen.

Won’t let that happen, I corrected. Because Alicia didn’t get a choice anymore. I’d made my decision. She was mine to protect. Mine to save. Mine to keep.

Even if she hated me for it.

We pulled into the hotel parking lot just as the sun was setting. Maurice barely had the car in park before I saw her.

Alicia.

Standing near a beat-up sedan, talking to someone. A man. Young. Familiar in the way his body language suggested with her.

Jealousy—immediate, irrational, vicious—sliced through me.

I forced myself to stay in the car. To observe. To not immediately tear him apart for standing too close to her.

They were talking. She was smiling. Actually smiling. A real smile that lit up her entire face in a way I’d never seen before.

When was the last time she’d smiled at me like that?

Never.

She smiled at me with sadness. With fear. With carefully controlled politeness.

But never with joy.

The man said something. She laughed. The sound carried across the parking lot—light, genuine, beautiful.

And it destroyed something inside me.

Then his hand moved. Reached out. Tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with casual intimacy.

That was it.

I was out of the car before conscious thought caught up with action. Moving fast. Silent. Every predatory instinct I’d honed over years of violence activating at once.

The man didn’t see me coming until my hand was on his collar.

I slammed him against the nearest car. Hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Hard enough to hurt.

"Get your fucking hands off her."

His eyes went wide with shock. "What—"

My fist connected with his face. Bone crunched. Blood sprayed.

"Malachi, stop!"

Alicia’s voice. Panicked. Desperate.

I didn’t stop. Drew back for another hit.

"I’m sorry!" The man’s words came out garbled, blood in his mouth. "I didn’t mean—are you her husband?"

Husband. The word made me want to hit him harder. Because no, I wasn’t her husband. Travis was. And the fact that this stranger assumed I had any legitimate claim to her when I didn’t was salt in an open wound.

I pulled back for another punch.

"Stop!" Alicia grabbed my arm.

I shook her off easily. Barely registered her touch through the red haze clouding my vision.

"He didn’t do anything!"

Didn’t do anything? He’d touched her. Put his hands on what was mine. That was enough.

I was vaguely aware of her shouting. Of other people starting to notice. Of Maurice hovering nearby, uncertain whether to intervene.

Then Alicia threw herself between us.

Her body pressed against mine. Her hands on my chest. Her eyes—terrified and furious in equal measure—staring up at me.

"Malachi, please."

That word. Please. Soft and broken.

It cut through the rage like a knife.

I stepped back. Released the man. He slumped against the car, blood streaming from his nose.

But the fury didn’t dissipate. It just... shifted. Redirected.

To her.

I grabbed her wrist—not roughly, but firmly enough that she couldn’t pull away—and started walking.

"Let go!" She tried to wrench free. "What is wrong with you?"

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t trust myself to speak without saying something I’d regret.

We crossed the parking lot. Entered the lobby. Took the elevator.

She kept yelling. Demanding explanations. Calling me names I probably deserved.

I didn’t care.

The elevator doors opened. I pulled her down the hallway to my suite. Unlocked the door. Pushed her inside.

The door slammed shut behind us.

Then I pinned her against it.

My body pressed to hers. One hand braced beside her head. The other still gripping her wrist. Close enough to feel her heart racing. To smell her perfume mixed with fear and something else.

Desire.

She felt it too. This sick, twisted pull between us.

"Who was that?" The words came out low. Dangerous.

"None of your business!" Her chin lifted defiantly.

"Everything about you is my business."

She shoved at my chest. I didn’t move. "Let me go!"

"Not until you answer me. Who. Was. That."

"A friend! A childhood friend who was helping me!"

Helping. The word made me want to break something.

"Is that what we’re calling it when a man puts his hands on you?"

"He was just—it wasn’t—" Frustration choked her words. "Why do you even care?"

"Because you’re mine!"

The confession ripped out of me. Raw. Unfiltered. The truth I’d been trying to control finally breaking free.

Silence crashed between us.

Her eyes went wide. Shocked. "I’m not yours. I’m nobody’s. And you—you’re a monster. Just like Travis. Just like every other Blackwood."

Each word was a blade. Precise. Cutting deep.

And she was right.

I was a monster. I’d killed men. Destroyed lives. Built an empire on fear and blood. I’d done things that would make her sick if she knew.

But hearing her say it—hearing her compare me to Travis—that was unbearable.

"You’re right," I said quietly. "I am a monster."

Something flickered in her expression. Surprise, maybe. Like she’d expected me to argue.

"Then let me go."

"No." I lifted my hand to her face, thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. She flinched but didn’t pull away. "Because you’ve made me this way. You’ve poisoned me, Alicia. Infected every thought. I can’t sleep without thinking about you. Can’t breathe without needing to know you’re safe."

Her breath hitched. "That’s not—"

"I’m obsessed," I continued, the confession spilling out like blood from a wound. "Completely, destructively obsessed. And I don’t care if it makes me a monster. I don’t care if you hate me for it. Because the alternative—watching another man touch you, watching you walk away—that’s not an option."

I think about you every second. Where you are. Who you’re with. Whether you’re thinking about me too.

"Stop."

"I can’t." My forehead dropped to hers.

Don’t you understand? I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried to stay away. To give you space. To be patient. But watching another man touch you—watching him make you smile—it made me want to kill him. And I would have. If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have beaten him to death in that parking lot and not felt an ounce of regret.

Tears gathered in her eyes. "I don’t have those feelings for you."

The lie was obvious. I could see it in her dilated pupils. In the way her body leaned toward mine even as her words pushed me away. In the rapid pulse at her throat.

"Liar." My voice dropped to a whisper. "You feel it too. This thing between us. Tell me you don’t and I’ll let you go right now."

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

"I..." Her voice cracked. "I hate you."

"I know."

"You remind me of everything wrong with the world. Everything cruel and violent and—"

"I know."

"You’re a devil."

"For you?" I pressed closer, eliminating any space between us. "Yes. I’ll be whatever devil you need. I’ll burn the world down if it keeps you safe. I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me. I’ll destroy everything and everyone until you’re the only thing left standing."

"I’m your sister-in-law," she whispered desperately. "We can never—even after the divorce—this is wrong."

I don’t care about right or wrong anymore. I only care about you. About keeping you. About making you understand that you’re mine in every way that matters.

"I don’t care about blood. About family. About any of it." My hand cupped her face. "I only care about you."

"You’re insane."

"Probably." My lips hovered over hers. "But you made me this way. You and your stubborn independence. Your refusal to ask for help."

Your determination to carry the world alone. You’ve undone me, Alicia. Completely.

"I don’t need your help."

"Yes, you do. And I’m going to give it to you. I’m going to save your sister. I’m going to destroy your father. I’m going to remove every obstacle between us until you have no choice but to see that we’re inevitable."

"You can’t just—"

I kissed her.

Cut off her protest with my mouth. Claimed her lips with a desperation I’d never felt before.

She froze. Hands pressed against my chest. Every muscle in her body tensed to resist.

Good. Let her fight. Let her hate me.

As long as she felt something.

But then something shifted.

Her hands, instead of pushing, grabbed my shirt. Her lips, instead of staying closed, parted. Her body, instead of pulling away, melted against mine.

A sound escaped her throat—half sob, half surrender.

And I was lost.

I deepened the kiss, pouring every dark emotion into it. Every possessive thought. Every violent urge. Every desperate need.

My hands roamed her body—not gentle, but not rough either. Claiming. Memorizing. Learning every curve. Every place that made her gasp. Every spot that made her arch into my touch.

"Malachi." My name on her lips was better than any drug.

"Say it again," I commanded against her mouth.

"We can’t—"

"We are." My lips moved to her jaw. Her neck. The delicate hollow of her throat where her pulse thundered. "Tell me to stop. Mean it, and I’ll stop."

She should. She should say the words. Should push me away. Should run.

Instead, she whispered: "Don’t stop."

Those two words shattered the last of my control.

I lifted her. Pinned her more firmly against the door. Her legs wrapped around my waist instinctively. Her fingers tangled in my hair.

This was wrong. Forbidden. Everything we shouldn’t be doing.

But God, it felt inevitable.

Like every moment since we’d met had been leading here. To this collision. This surrender.

I kissed her like I was drowning and she was air. Like she was the only thing keeping me human. Like letting her go would mean losing the last good part of myself.

Because maybe it would.

Maybe Alicia was the only thing standing between me and becoming the complete monster everyone already thought I was.

And I was never letting her go.