CHAPTER NINE
MALIK
T he rhythmic cadence of our horse’s hooves against the hard-packed earth provided a steady undertone to my racing thoughts as we made our way toward the caves. A sliver of the moon provided the barest illumination.
Reyna’s touch scorched me from the inside out. Her fingers grazed my shoulders with an inadvertent intimacy as she adjusted her position, and my gut clenched with a desire that was becoming painfully hard to ignore.
“Are you alright?” Reyna asked, her voice soft and laced with concern, stoking the fire within me.
“Fine,” I managed to grunt.
As much as I tried to focus on the path ahead, my mind couldn’t help but wade through the murky waters of self-reflection. It seemed to be my curse, falling for women whose hearts were promised to others, eternally reaching for what was beyond my grasp.
Reyna shifted closer, perhaps seeking solace from the jarring motion of our journey, or maybe it was something else, a need that mirrored my own. She nestled her head against my shoulder, a gesture so innocent yet fraught with meaning. She wrapped her arms around me, holding on as if I were the anchor in this vast, unpredictable world. My body responded to her nearness with a ferocity that left little room for denial.
Osman doesn’t deserve her, I thought with a bitter edge. She needs passion, someone who can match her fire and make her feel alive. Someone like me.
I’d always prided myself on being the kind of man who could sweep a woman off her feet—bringing danger, excitement, and seduction together in an irresistible whirlwind. Yet here was Reyna, fierce and breathtaking, tethered to Osman—the embodiment of predictability and safety.
Osman, the scholar, the bookworm, I scoffed inwardly, my grip tightening on the reins to keep my hands from straying to where they longed to be—entwined in the silky strands of Reyna’s hair, tracing the curves of her body pressed so intimately against mine. She deserves a man who lives on the edge and embraces the thrill of the unknown. Not him.
My jealousy flared, hot and sharp, as we continued our trek. I had to remind myself to breathe and maintain the facade of stoic calm, even as every fiber of my being screamed to claim what I so desperately wanted. But duty called, and with a heavy heart, I focused on the path before us, leading us back to the realities of Roman, Osman, and the fate that awaited us at Mathias’ wretched estate.
“So... how long have you been betrothed to Osman?” My voice seemed too loud in the stillness of our journey, grating against the quiet.
She shifted slightly, her head still resting on my shoulder, but she remained ensconced in her world, her arms loosely around me, a touch that was both torture and ecstasy. The silence stretched, and I was left with only the sound of our horse hooves and Marcellious’ pained groans punctuating the air.
“Marcellious,” I murmured, glancing back at him with concern and impatience, “hang in there.”
The sooner we reached the caves, the sooner he could get the desperately needed help. And the sooner I could rid myself of this tormenting proximity to Reyna.
Her secrets tantalized me, just out of reach. She knew things—about Osman, Roman, and this tangled web we found ourselves in. What power did her silence hold? Why did she withhold her words as if they were precious gems locked away in a fortress?
“Reyna, how did you meet Osman?” I tried again, probing for any sliver of connection, any hint of her thoughts. But she was like a statue behind me, her presence both comforting and maddening. Her lips parted, a breath as if she might speak, but then sealed shut again, trapping whatever secrets lay within.
I sighed, resigning myself to the void between us.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. Osman will be so happy to see you. He’s missed you terribly,” I said, though the words tasted bitter on my tongue.
That bastard.
Osman, the unworthy recipient of her affections. How could she choose him when someone like me —someone who truly understood the allure of danger and passion—was beside her?
All I could do was ride on, the silence an unyielding barrier, and my desires a silent storm raging within.
The cave loomed before us, its gaping maw swallowing the last rays of twilight. As we drew near, figures emerged from the shadows, their faces alight with hope and relief. Roman sprinted toward us.
“By God’s grace! You found them both,” he said, rushing to his brother’s side. “Thank the heavens.”
Properly in his composure, Osman approached with a restraint that belied his excitement. His eyes found Reyna, and with a grace that mocked me, he reached up to help her down from the horse. But when she winced at his touch, my heart clenched an echo of pain for her discomfort—and a surge of jealousy for the intimacy I craved but could not claim.
That should be my woman, not yours . The thought snarled within me, wild and untamed, a beast caged by duty and circumstance. In moments like this, the hollowness in my chest felt infinite. Love, I realized bitterly, was an illusion—a cruel mirage. My job and my duty were tangible and grounded in reality. But this ridiculous, tormenting thing called love? It would never find a home within me.
Roman crouched beside Marcellious, concern furrowing his brow.
“What have they done to you?” He looked at me. “He looks awful. We need to get him to the estate, and everyone will be relieved to see him alive.”
“Let’s move,” I said, voice edged with urgency, pushing aside the distraction of my longing.
“Reyna should ride with me,” Osman interjected, calm but firm. He glanced in my direction—an expression that might have been apologetic if I cared enough to dissect it.
Reyna climbed onto his horse without a word, and they settled together. The sight of her so close to him sent another surge of jealousy coursing through me, but I swallowed it down.
We set off into the dark, the rhythmic pounding of hooves on the earth the only sound to punctuate the silence, each of us racing toward an uncertain fate.
As stars pierced the veil of night, we arrived at Mathias’ doorstep. Roman didn’t bother with formalities; he threw open the front door and bellowed, “We need a doctor!”
Oliva, Alina, Emily, and Mathias poured from the house and gathered around Marcellious, their faces a tableau of shock and fear. But beneath the alarm on Alina and Mathias’ faces, something else lurked—something I recognized all too well. The faintest flicker, a glint in the eye, spoke of deceit. They played their parts admirably, the concerned family, yet I knew the truth of their hearts. They had cast Marcellious into danger with purposeful intent and carried resentment that he was alive.
My jaw tightened as I watched them, the weight of unsaid accusations heavy on my tongue. The night wrapped around us, a cloak of secrets and lies, as I watched a scene rife with betrayal.
Mathias’ voice was a barrage of urgency as he bore down on me with question after question. “What happened? How did you find him? Where was he?”
His eyes, dark and probing, sought the truth in mine.
I ignored him. Emily’s eyes shimmered with relief, her hands clasped over her mouth as if holding back sobs. Stoic and silent, Lee lifted Marcellious from the stretcher with Roman’s help. Osman left Reyna’s side to assist while Emily fluttered behind like a concerned bird. They moved grimly up the staircase.
Amid the swirling chaos of concern for Marcellious, Reyna—pale and wincing—seemed to fade into the background, forgotten even by her betrothed. Osman’s focus had become an echo of the household’s collective obsession with Marcellious’ condition. Only Olivia seemed to notice Reyna’s quiet suffering.
“Immediately draw her a bath,” she told a maid.
In stark contrast to the flurry of movement and voices, Mathias and Alina remained unnervingly composed. Their calmness was sharp, deliberate, and too perfect. It was a thin veneer of tranquility that only emphasized the treachery simmering beneath their polished exteriors.
“Malik, how did you find them?” Mathias pressed, his voice cutting through the din of the hallway.
“The night called for blood,” I said, my voice low and even. “I went to kill. I needed sustenance. But fate led me to them, broken and bruised on the forest floor, teetering at death’s edge.”
My hand instinctively moved toward Reyna, a silent gesture of protection, a shield against the scrutiny she didn’t deserve.
“Who saved you and Marcellious? What happened?” Mathias pressed, his relentless questions cutting through the air like the edge of a blade.
Reyna, standing tall despite her injuries, met his gaze unflinchingly. “Someone attacked Raul and his men. A woman unleashed a powerful smoke and saved us. We were put on horses, and I saw... Raul’s face—half of it was burned.” She paused, the memory flickering in her eyes. “I believe Raul and his men didn’t make it.”
A flicker of some unknown emotion danced across Alina’s face, swallowed by her shadows.
The air felt heavy with the weight of unspoken truths, with everything hidden behind each set of eyes in the room. As I stood there, the guardian of secrets and protector of hearts, I knew our fates were as entwined as vines in the darkest parts of the forest.
“We’re grateful to be alive,” Reyna said.
“Grateful doesn’t begin to cover it,” I murmured, my gaze lingering on her.
“We traveled through the woods, desperate and terrified, until we collapsed. We were lucky Malik found us when he did,” she continued, her voice edged with raw truth. “If not, we’d be dead.” Her words sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
Mathias leaned in, his brow furrowed with concern—or was it suspicion?
“Are you sure it was a woman?” he asked.
“Mathias, stop interrogating,” Olivia cut in, her voice halting Mathias in his tracks. “She needs food, rest, and a bath. She needs care. She survived—that’s all that matters.”
I nodded in silent appreciation toward Olivia. Stepping aside, I let the weight of my protective stance ease off.
“She needs to be with a woman, not a man,” I said, feeling the heat of the moment dissipate as the household shuffled into motion, turning their attention to more immediate needs.
Lee, Roman, Osman, Emily, and Marcellious had already vanished upstairs, a trailing echo of footsteps marking their passage. I pivoted, intent on checking on Rosie, when Mathias’ voice stopped me.
“Forgive me, Malik, for my earlier insults,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically soft, laced with a rare vulnerability. “I should have told you about Alina. I’m so sorry for throwing you against the glass. I should have been honest from the start.”
“There’s no need to beg for forgiveness,” I replied evenly, masking the turmoil beneath the surface. “If anyone needs forgiveness, it’s me. I overstepped.” As I turned away, my thoughts were already racing ahead, threading through the shadows of what lay before us.
I hope we find that damn blade so I can leave and protect my loved ones, I thought, the urgency of our quest burning like a fire in my chest. But I knew my desire was nothing more than folly—our enemies were the darkest of the dark. Something horrible could happen at any time. I hoped I would be ready when that time came.