Chapter 36 Madeline
Madeline
Vince: Daddy’s coming. Don’t scream or be difficult, baby.
I stared at the message for a bit longer before locking my phone. Through the glass wall, Malice glowed.
This city didn’t have Villain’s teeth. Malice had glass and white stone, palm-lined boulevards, beaches so perfect they looked filtered. A dynasty playground with better weather.
Atticus penthouse felt different here. Less like a fortress, more like a holiday rental. Open plan, pale wood, the marble island already had a tray with coffee pods and protein bars, because he couldn’t help himself.
The world outside the windows already awake. People jogged along the boardwalk. Early swimmers cut lines through the surf. Delivery drones zipped between towers.
I sat at the island and watched it all, fingers wrapped around a glass of water I’d poured and hadn’t drank yet.
Footsteps came down the hallway a few minutes later. I straightened automatically.
Atticus walked in gym bag slung over one shoulder. He wore a white t-shirt and grey shorts, and still somehow looked like he’d stepped out of a dynasty campaign shoot.
“There she is,” he grinned, “Malice’s newest fugitive.”
I tried to smile. “Hardly.”
“Runaway princess, then.” He dumped the bag near the wall and came around the island. “Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
He went straight to the coffee machine, fiddling with the controls like he disapproved of its default settings.
“Eat anything?”
“Not yet.”
“Madeline,” came out of him like a sigh. “You negotiated an entire river yesterday.”
“Water,” I said, lifting the glass fractionally. “Hydration.”
He pressed a pod in, watched. “That doesn’t count. You need protein. And probably sugar. And definitely someone to remind you’re not, in fact, a machine.”
“Is that your job description now?”
“It’s one of the better parts,”
He slid the coffee in front of me and leaned his elbows on the other side of the bench, studying my face.
His gaze softened. “You want to talk about it?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll take that as a ‘eventually’ instead of a ‘never’, for my own sanity.”
A tiny smile tugged at my mouth. “Do whatever helps.”
He watched me take a sip, waited until I swallowed.
“So first order of business. You won’t believe what happened at my Villain penthouse last night.”
The words didn’t register at first. My brain stayed caught on the heat of the coffee against my palms.
My fingers tightened on the cup. “What?”
“Apparently it got raided. Some security team stormed the building after a panic alarm went off. Whole thing at three in the morning. My poor concierge is traumatised.”
The room tilted.
“Raided,” I repeated.
“Mmm.” He winced. “My staff chat pinged me seven times. I had my comms muted because, surprise, I was trying not to be dragged back into that city at one in the morning.”
“Who? Which security.”
“That’s the fun part.” He tilted his head. “No one knows. They were Crow-signed, but it wasn’t a standard team. More like… handpicked. My concierge described the lead as ‘terrifying and oddly handsome,’ so that narrows it down.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
He kept talking. “Apparently someone set off a panic alarm from one of the guest rooms. They sliced through the building’s clearance like it was tissue. Emergency overrides, elevator locks, the works. Went straight to my floor, found my guest suite empty, and left.”
I stared at him.
Atticus’s brows pulled together. “You’re white.”
“Beach city,” I said weakly.
“This wasn’t supposed to stress you. I was going for ‘see, good thing we left.’ Fresh air. Distance. No panicked security teams pounding on your door at three in the morning.”
“What time,” I asked. “Exactly.”
He squinted. “Feed said 03:07. Why?”
The timestamp in my head lined up with a text.
Daddy’s coming.
Don’t scream or be difficult, baby.
I couldn’t feel my hands.
Atticus rounded the island, a relaxed expression.
“We made the right call,” he went on. “Malice is quiet, discrete, and very far from Villain. Take the win. I’m heading to the gym downstairs to bully my lungs into working. Doctor’s orders.” His gaze softened again. “Your orders are to rest, eat, and go outside. Sun is free. I highly recommend it.”
“I should work,” I said. “I’ll fall behind.”
“You won Thorne a city’s worth of water leverage yesterday. You’ve earned one day where the only thing you negotiate is how much sunscreen to use.”
The corner of my mouth ticked up.
He dipped down and kissed the top of my head, quick. “There she is. Library eyes. Try not to overthink the ocean.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He left with a wave toward the door, already pulling his comm out as he walked. The moment the lock clicked, my composure cracked.
He’d gone.
To Villain. To Atticus’s place. In the middle of the night.
My mind painted it too easily: Vince in all-black, ring glinting, eyes flat. Security falling back. Elevators overridden. The guest room door swinging open onto cold sheets and a bathroom light I’d forgotten to turn off.
He hadn’t stayed in safety.
He’d come. And I hadn’t been there.
By mid-morning, a personal stylist arrived with three clothing racks and an assistant. They arranged dresses in colour gradients, slipped bikinis onto velvet hangers, laid out sandals like a catalogue shoot.
I let them fuss, let them talk about cuts and palettes and what would photograph well against Malice’s water. It gave my brain something shallow to bounce off instead of sinking.
In the end, I picked a black bikini and a sheer white cover-up that hid just enough. Sunglasses did the rest.
Outside, Malice was bright enough to hurt.
The private stretch of beach attached to the tower felt almost unreal.
White sand, clear water, umbrellas in neat rows with cushioned lounges beneath them.
Staff hovered at polite distances. Security watched from shaded perches.
No cameras hovered in the air. Veil drones weren’t permitted on this section of coastline.
I lay back on one of the loungers. Waves rolled in gentle rhythms. Children’s laughter drifted from further down the sand. Somewhere behind me, a blender whirred in a bar.
I must have closed my eyes, because the next thing that pulled me back was a shadow.
For a second I assumed a staff member had come to ask if I wanted a drink. I stayed still, waiting for a polite cough.
“Baby, you’d better have put sunscreen on, Or Daddy’s going to be very disappointed.”
My heart stopped.
Breath locked hard enough in my chest that I almost sat up on reflex. Slowly, I pushed my sunglasses down my nose and looked up.
Vince stood over me.
Suit pants. Black belt. The kind of shoes that didn’t belong on a beach. His shirt was gone; in its place, a black tank clung him. His tattoos were stupidly distracting.
His eyes met mine, and the rest of the world went blurred.
“Up,” he said. “You and I need to talk.”