10. Connor
Chapter 10
Connor
I push the door to Malachi’s room open with my foot while balancing the tray of food in one hand. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor like it owes him answers. He doesn’t even look up when I step inside.
“Breakfast,” I say, setting the tray down on the desk. “Eat up. You’ve got five minutes.”
That gets his attention. His head snaps up, and he pulls his brows together in confusion. “Five minutes for what exactly?”
I lean against the desk, crossing my arms. “We’re goin’ for a walk.”
His expression doesn’t change. “A walk?”
“Aye,” I say, keeping my tone casual. “You know, outside? Fresh air? Sunlight?”
“Why?” he asks suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.
“Because I’m feelin’ generous,” I reply with a shrug. “Or bored. Take your pick.”
Malachi stares at me for a moment, then glances at the tray. “And if I don’t want to?”
“You can try that,” I say, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “But you’ll still be out the door in five minutes, whether you’ve eaten or not. Your call.”
I don’t wait for his response. I step into the hall, leaning against the wall while he decides. True to form, it takes him four minutes and fifty seconds to open the door.
“Done,” he says, his tone flat. “Now what?”
I smirk, gesturing for him to follow me. “Now, you walk. And just so we’re clear, you can try to leg it if you like, but you won’t get far. Not unless you wanna put the ‘target’ in target practice.”
“I figured,” he mutters, trailing behind me as I lead him downstairs.
The estate is quiet this early, the kind of calm that usually settles over the place before everyone starts barking orders or plotting something. Outside, the morning air is crisp, the sky a dull gray, promising rain later.
We step onto the gravel path, and I motion for Malachi to keep up. He pushes up his glasses and shoves his hands in his pockets, his posture tense as he looks around. His eyes dart from the sprawling lawns to the hedges lining the driveway, then to the woods in the distance.
“Where are we goin’?” he asks, his voice breaking the silence.
“Nowhere,” I say. “Just a loop around the property.”
“And this is supposed to be… what? Your version of exercise for prisoners?”
“Somethin’ like that,” I reply, not looking at him.
The walk is awkward. He keeps his distance, his shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself smaller. I glance at him occasionally, watching the way he moves, like he’s unsure of every step he takes. Eyes downcast and pinched lips, not even sparing me a glance.
It’s the same look Cat had when we brought her home. Lost. Like a piece of him is still back in his old flat, and the rest doesn’t know how to fit here.
I try to think of something to say, some half-joke or sarcastic comment to cut through the tension, but nothing feels right. Instead, we walk in silence, the gravel crunching under our feet the only sound.
“Why am I here?” Malachi finally asks, his voice quiet.
I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Here as in ‘on this estate’ or here as in ‘alive’?”
“Take your pick,” he says, throwing my words back at me.
I stop walking, turning to face him. He stops too, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. “You’re here because of your father,” I say simply.
He blinks, his brows furrowing. “I know that much, but what the hell does he have to do with any of this? Why suddenly come after my father now by usin’ me?”
I take a deep breath, the words heavier than I expected. “Your da orchestrated the kidnappin’ of my sister and one of her closest friends. He put them through hell, and we responded in kind.”
Malachi stares at me, his face paling. “So… what? This is revenge?”
“Not exactly,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re leverage. A way to make sure he doesn’t try something like that again.”
He takes a step back, his jaw tightening. “I had nothin’ to do with that. I’ve never had anythin’ to do with his business.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “That’s why you’re still breathin’.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” he snaps, his voice rising. “I’m just supposed to be okay with it?”
“No one’s askin’ you to be okay with it,” I reply with a long-suffering sigh. “But this is how it works, Malachi. This is the world your father built and the one you were born into.”
He glares at me, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “And what about your world, huh? How are you any better?”
I meet his gaze, the question cutting deeper than I’d like to admit. “I’m not. But I protect my family, no matter what it takes. That’s the only thing that matters.”
He looks away, his shoulders slumping. For a moment, I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. He’s still the son of the enemy, still someone we’re meant to use, as fucked up as it sounds.
“Come on,” I say, nodding toward the path. “We’re not done yet.”
He hesitates, then falls into step beside me. The silence stretches between us again, heavier this time. I can feel the questions bubbling under the surface, but he doesn’t ask them, and I don’t offer any more answers.
When we finally circle back to the house and go inside, he stops at the door, looking at me like he’s about to say something. Instead, he just shakes his head and steps inside.
I lock the door afterward, pocketing the key. The look he had on his face as I left lingers in my mind—anger, frustration, and that damn confusion. I’d just dropped the truth on him, laid it bare, and now he’s stuck in that room to stew over it. Locked in his head as much as he is in this bloody estate.
Not my fucking problem, I tell myself, but the thought doesn’t stick.
Each step down the hall sends a fresh wave of pain radiating through my ribs, every breath dragging shards of glass through my lungs. I should’ve stayed put after yesterday and let the damage settle, but I didn’t. Stubbornness, pride—call it what you want. Now I’m paying for it.
I round the corner, desperate to collapse onto my bed and shut out the world for a few hours, but stop dead in my tracks.
Nikolai is leaning against the wall next to my bedroom door. His blond hair is disheveled, his clothes slightly wrinkled, and his blue eyes look bloodshot. He’s definitely not the polished, cocky bastard I grew up with. He looks like shite.
I grit my teeth as a sharp irritation bubbles up in my chest. Of all the people I don’t have the patience for right now, he’s at the top of the list. The absolute fucking top. But then Da’s words from the other night echo in my head: You need to give him time to come to you.
So, I swallow down my frustration, and close the gap between us. “What do you want, Nikolai?”
He glances up at me, his blue eyes heavy with something I don’t have the patience to deal with right now. “To talk.”
I scoff, turning to unlock my door. “Not in the fuckin’ mood.”
“Connor,” he says softly. “Please.”
That makes me pause. Nikolai Mikhailov doesn’t beg. At least, not the Nikolai I used to know. I sigh, shoving the door open and gesturing to him to follow me inside. “Fine. Make it quick, will you.”
He steps inside as I head for the bed, the familiar dull ache in my ribs flaring up as I sit. I wince, not bothering to hide it, and glance at Nikolai as he hovers near the door. His jaw tightens when he notices, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Well?” I say, leaning back against the headboard, keeping my tone even. “Out with it, then.”
He stays by the door for a moment, fidgeting like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Finally, he takes a deep breath and steps closer. “I’m sorry, Connor.”
I raise an eyebrow. “For what, exactly?”
“For all of it,” he says. “For being a selfish prick. For sneaking around with Cat when I knew damn well what that would do to you. For going behind your back like a coward. And—”
He hesitates, his eyes flicking to the floor before he keeps going. “For hurting her. For the things I said to her when I thought I could just push her away instead of stepping up. I was a fucking coward.”
His voice cracks slightly, but he powers through while still not looking at me. “And more than anything, I’m sorry for betraying you. For destroying what we had. You were my brother, and I fucked it all up.”
I watch him, my chest tight, as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s nervous and I can’t find it in me to feel pleasure in that. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, and I realize he’s trying to hold himself together.
“I’ve spent weeks trying to figure out how to fix this,” he continues with a trembling voice. “But I know I can’t undo what I did. I can’t take it back. All I can do is try to be better and step up.”
The room is heavy with silence as he finally looks at me, his blue eyes wide and desperate. “Please, Connor. Let me earn your trust back. Let me protect Cat the way I should’ve from the start. I swear on my life, I’ll keep her safe. I’ll keep them both safe.”
I let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down my face as I take in his words. For weeks I’ve been holding onto this anger, this… betrayal, and letting it fester. It’s easier to be pissed off at him than to deal with what’s really behind it all.
“You really hurt me, Nikolai,” I say finally, my voice low. “Not just Cat. Me. You went behind my back, and you made me feel like a fuckin’ fool. And that? That’s not easy to come back from.”
“I know,” he says quickly, his tone raw. “I know, and I hate myself for it. Every fucking day, I hate myself more for it. I hate that I broke us. You’re my family, my brother. And I…” His voice cracks, and he swallows hard. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I study him, while ignoring the pain shooting up my side. He’s definitely not the same Nikolai I grew up with. This man standing in front of me is broken.
“You’ve got a lot to make up for,” I say eventually.
“I’ll do whatever it takes. You know I don’t half-ass anything once I‘m locked in.”
I nod slowly, the sigh I let out splitting me in two. “You’d better mean that, Niko.”
“I do,” he says without hesitation, his eyes blazing with sincerity. “I swear to fucking God.”
The tension in the room eases slightly as I lean back against the headboard, my ribs protesting the movement. “Alright. But don’t expect me to just forgive and forget overnight. Trust takes time.”
“I know,” he says softly. “I’ll prove it to you. I swear I will.”
“Good,” I say simply. “Because if you fuck this up again, I’ll kill you myself. And that’s not an empty threat.”
A faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, the first hint of something familiar. “Fair enough.”
The room goes quiet again, the air between us feeling lighter than it has in months. Not fixed, not perfect, but… better.
“Alright,” I say, standing and wincing as pain flares through my ribs. “If we’re done here, can you fuck off? I’m fuckin’ wrecked and I need to sleep before I pass out.”
He grins and nods, heading for the door but pausing just before he leaves. “Connor,” he says softly, glancing back at me.
“What?”
“I missed this,” he admits, his voice raw. “Us. I’m going to make it right for both of you.”
I don’t respond, and after a moment, he slips out the door. As it clicks shut behind him, I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of everything starting to lift—just a little.
It’s not forgiveness. Not yet. But it’s a start.