Chapter 10 Malec
Malec
Kayla’s been frowning in the back seat the entire ride home.
Even Bay looked ready to drag that bastard down to merhell herself—so why doesn’t Kayla see it? How can she still be so reckless? Sneaking out alone. Meeting strangers. Acting like the world isn’t hunting her. Us.
She’s the heir to the Mal-El lineage. She needs to start taking that seriously.
Me? I’m only the anchor to my mother. Both of us Black Blooded, bound by rules that choke and orders that shatter the moment we touch them. We’ll never rule a pod.
But Kayla—she’s different. She’s the future. She’s the reason the crescent on my forehead still pulses with power instead of flickering out like many others.
The lineages are thinning. Dying. I feel it every day—the hunger gnawing deeper, the way each newborn seems weaker than the last. Another mark will fade soon. Another pod will fall. The glow will vanish from my skin, leaving only a scar where a dynasty used to burn bright.
The thought makes my skin prickle, my jaw clench.
In the rearview mirror, Kayla exhales—loud, pointed—and folds her arms like I’m supposed to take the hint she’s not happy. Her silent protest.
Well, good for her.
So am I.
“You know that shit doesn’t work on me like it works on Dad, Kayla,” I say coldly, holding her gaze in the rearview mirror. One turquoise gem eye. One silver, like mine.
Both finally lock with mine.
“Do you even realize how fucking dangerous that was today?”
“So now going on a simple date is dangerous, too?” she snaps, straightening in her seat and turning to the window, glaring at the road like it might open and swallow her.
“Just lock me in my room and call it a day.”
“I’m starting to think that’s not such a bad idea.” I turn fully in my seat to glare at her, and she shifts uncomfortably. Her dark hair falls over her face, hiding her eyes now. She doesn’t bother to fix it.
She knows I could make that happen. I never would—but she knows I have the authorization.
And that’s enough.
“And you call that piece of shit a simple date—”
Bay’s hand presses to my shoulder, cutting me off. I turn to her before Kayla can answer, and I can hear my sister exhale in relief behind me.
I raise a brow at Bay.
She shakes her head. Just once—no.
No what?
No fighting with Kayla?
No reminding her that the guy she was with planned to drug her?
No telling her she’s not even of drinking age?
She’s only sixteen—and already, every man within a few meters starts checking her out.
That’s bad enough.
It’s taking everything in me not to rip their dirty-looking souls out just for the thoughts they have when they look at her.
But now she’s willingly walking into that filth?
I inhale sharply, eyes still locked with Bay’s.
“She’ll talk to her. Don’t open it here.” Myko’s voice delivers Bay’s silent message. Our ever-frustrating broken telephone system.
I sigh. If I upset Bay, Myko won’t let me sleep for a week.
“We drop Kayla at home,” I say finally, shifting gears, “I need to talk to Dad for a bit. Then we head back to Abert.”
Bay nods and removes her hand from my shoulder, settling it back on the wheel.
That alone should scare me more than any of Myko’s threats.
But thankfully, being Black Blooded comes with a curse—or a blessing, depending how and who’s looking at it.
My life is tethered to my mother’s.
According to Myko, Black Blooded don’t age. Don’t die. We’re immortal—unless someone finds a way to kill both sides of the bond at the exact same time.
As long as one lives, the other won’t die.
So, unless Mom’s in the car with us?
I think I’m safe even from her driving ‘skills.’ For now.
“We’re here,” Bay announces, stopping the car in front of the main entrance to our building instead of heading to the parking floor.
“I’ll wait in the car. Do your things quickly and come back. I need to talk to Myko.”
She turns to Kayla with a heavy sigh. “You too. Go upstairs. And please—no more adventures. We’ll talk about it when I come back.”
I glance at Kayla, but she’s already lost all her fight. Her posture wilts under Bay’s gaze. She always trusts Bay with her secrets.
And my aunt? She treats her like an older sister would, instead of the strict, rule-enforcing aunt my mom wants her to be. But Kayla’s starting to lose sight of the line between right and wrong—and if anyone can reach her before she crosses it, it’s Bay.
Kayla just nods, then opens the door and steps out quietly. She heads straight toward the entrance, no goodbye, no look back. Nothing.
“You’re too soft with her,” I mutter to Bay as I open my door and step out, not waiting for her usual lecture: Don’t teach me how to parent, or I failed with you, so I’m doing better with her.
“I swear, I’ll make sure you don’t sleep for a month if you keep annoying your aunt,” Myko grits in my mind. I raise my hands in mock surrender as I reach the building entrance.
The young new guard my father posted in the lobby raises an eyebrow at me. Probably thinks I’m crazy.
I snort to myself.
He has no idea.
Most of the men here don’t. Only my father and uncle’s most trusted know the truth—and even they don’t fully understand it.
They used to run from me as a kid when my body would start glowing. I thought it was a game. I didn’t know they were actually terrified to touch me.
I step into the lobby and catch the elevator just before the doors close on Kayla. I slip in, and she frowns, glaring at the row of silver buttons like they personally offended her.
“Oh. Just great,” she mutters, stepping further away from me.
I roll my eyes, leaning back casually against the wall.
“You really want to start a fight with me over your own safety?”
This time, my voice is different. It's not the cold tone of the future capo.
It’s the brother who could’ve lost his sister tonight.
Her expression softens. She looks at me for just a second… then drops her eyes to the floor with a sharp inhale.
“I’m sorry.”
Finally.
She’s done with the childish tantrum.
“I hope that means you won’t do it again?”
My voice is gentler now, my posture relaxed. I really hope—
“No. I meant I’m sorry for what I’m about to do—”
The elevator doors open, and she bolts.
I don’t even hesitate. I’m already chasing her toward the apartment.
Oh shit.
The second she unlocks the front door, her voice rings out like a siren through the whole damn entrance floor.
“DAD! MALEC ATE MY DATE!”
FUCK. IT. KAYLA.
This is not the time.
She’s had Dad wrapped around her finger since she was in diapers, and I cannot handle another argument right now about how I’m supposed to treat her like some delicate little royal mafia princess.
I storm through the apartment entrance, scanning the first floor—
Too late. Kayla’s already sprinted into Dad’s office, leaving the door wide open like it’s her own personal playroom.
I brace myself for my father’s roar echoing from the office—but to my surprise, nothing happens.
I step in cautiously after Kayla, careful not to say anything until I get a read on him. I’m not about to poke the shark if he’s already in a bad mood.
That’s when I glance toward my usual lifeline, and realize—Mom’s not home.
My eyes land on Dad instead, looming over the main table, deep in conversation with Uncle Mariano about another unclear problem to solve.
Of course. Another mission. Another one I wasn’t called in for.
I let out a frustrated chuckle under my breath, but Kayla doesn’t play by our rules. She never did. She walks right past all the red flags in the room, strolling by my grandmother’s glass case like it’s just another piece of furniture.
I haven’t gone near that case since I was a kid. I know better now than to mess with what they did to her. It's covered now—hidden.
A loud thud pulls me back—Kayla’s palms slam onto the table, hard enough to send some of the loose pins scattering over the map.
“Kayla,” Dad growls low, a sound I’ve only ever heard directed at me.
But this time—it’s aimed at her.
He’s pissed.
Very pissed.
Something’s wrong. Very wrong.
“Dad!” she whines like his fury is beneath her. “Malec ate my date’s soul!”
Dad inhales sharply, closing his eyes—not even hiding his frustration. He straightens slowly, looks like he’s one second from exploding.
“Good,” he says flatly. “You don’t need dates. You’re not old enough to even look at men.”
I blink. Once. Then twice.
He’s not taking her side?
“Malec, come here. We’ve got some issues to deal with,” Dad adds, his gaze shifting to me.
Kayla’s jaw drops.
And I won’t lie—I enjoy it. Way more than I should. Finally, someone else is getting shut down for once.
I step forward and stop beside him, eyes scanning the map on the table.
This isn’t New York.
It’s a full world map—highlighting oceans, depths. Unreached zones. Scattered islands. Coastlines etched with almost obsessive precision. And across the waters: pod markers. Tiny symbols scattered like constellations, each one carrying a lineage I’d only ever felt in my bones.
My chest tightens.
Why is he looking at this?
Did Mom give him all that info?
Even I never knew every location. I only felt them—the flare of life when a pod thrived, the hollow silence when one vanished.
“And by issues, I’m guessing you mean merproblems?” I ask, tilting my head and raising a brow.
“Dad!” Kayla cries again, but before he can respond, I shoot her a glare.
“Kayla. Not the time. Go. You can come back to cry when we’re done.”
She freezes, eyes darting between us, as if she’s weighing whether to push her luck. Then she exhales, frustrated, and storms out, heels clicking sharply against the floor. The door slams behind her.
I look back at Dad to make sure I’m seeing things clear—he’s smirking now.
“You’re starting to handle things well with her,” he says, tapping my shoulder. “I’m proud of you.” He pulls me in closer and gestures toward the map.
“Now look here. These pinpoints.”
Red pins stab into the paper like blood drops staining a body. Mal-El. Sur-El. Aquan. Stylon. Kolox. The names thud in my chest, one after another, like stones filling my lungs, sinking me deeper.
“These are the pods we need to start with,” he says calmly, but I can hear the storm building beneath it.
I study each mark, feeling the weight of them settle like anchors on my shoulders.
“Your mom heard from your grandmother,” he continues. “Someone’s tracking merfolk. Vanishing them. We need you on this.”
The words sink in sharply. My pulse kicks.
Solas’s soul, it seems, won’t be the last nightmare today.