Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
INDIGO
Malik looks stunned, his dark eyes wide and unblinking, his body tense like he's preparing to bolt. But he's seen the bitch, so pretending is useless. And hell, maybe this is for the better. Maybe it’s time.
"Why?" he asks, his voice hoarse, like the question scraped against his throat on the way out.
I shrug, feigning nonchalance, though my insides twist. "I don’t know. I like it. It’s fun and creative. I’m careful, so I won’t get caught, and I’d never hurt you. I love you."
He doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches so long I feel it like a rope tightening around my ribs, making it harder to breathe. I shouldn’t have done this here. I should’ve known better than to bring a piece somewhere Malik knew. His place. His safe space.
I grit my teeth, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. "This is where you say you love me too, Malik."
He swallows hard. "I—I—I don’t know. Well, I do… I think I do. But this..." He waves a hand toward Elle's body, his fingers trembling. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?"
"Love me anyway?" My voice cracks, the rawness of the words vibrating in the air between us. "That’s what love is, right? Loving someone through their flaws? Mine’s just a little extra… well… flaw-y."
"Indigo." He whispers my name like it’s a prayer, or maybe a curse.
I step closer, my hands shaking as I reach for him, but he takes a step back. I freeze, heart hammering, stomach twisting into a brutal knot. "You leave and don’t say anything. I’ll deal with this. No one will ever know. You just have to keep my secret."
His breathing is sharp, uneven. He looks at me like he’s seeing someone else entirely. Like I’ve transformed into something foreign, something monstrous. But still, he doesn’t run. He doesn’t call the cops. He just stands there, processing, unraveling.
"I need time to think about this." His voice is hollow as he turns away.
Panic surges inside me, violent and unrelenting. "Malik!"
He stops but doesn’t turn. My throat tightens. My vision blurs. "Please…"
He finally looks over his shoulder, his expression defeated, like I’ve taken something from him that he can’t ever get back. "I’ll keep your secret."
I sag with relief, but it’s a bitter kind, because I know I’ve just forced him into something he never wanted to be a part of. And yet… I can’t bring myself to regret it.
I need to go home. I need to deal with this.
I grab my phone, my fingers shaking as I dial the number I know like the back of my hand. It rings twice before a voice purrs through the speaker.
"Little Snake. It’s been a while."
I take a breath, steady myself. "Another Mai Tai. 6359 Fern School Rd. The woods behind the house. Cut through the field so the owner doesn’t see."
A low chuckle. "Pricey. An outdoor drink behind a house? You’re losing your edge, Little Snake. What’s happened?"
"Nothing," I snap, too fast. Too defensive.
"Have you considered my offer? My friend is still looking for a hired man."
"I don’t like rules."
"Maybe you’d like his rules."
I chew on the inside of my cheek, my thoughts spiraling. "I’ll meet with him. That’s all I promise."
"I’ll set it up."
"Text me, and I’ll send payment."
"Looking forward to it, Little Snake."
The call disconnects, and I shove the phone into my pocket. My pulse is still erratic, my mind racing.
I need to go home. I need to breathe. I need to figure out how to make sure Malik never leaves me.
I change quickly, peeling off my bloody clothes and stuffing them into my bag. I change my shoes, the action swift and purposeful. My hands don’t shake, but there’s an electricity buzzing beneath my skin, a mixture of adrenaline and calculation. It’s fine. This is fine. I’ve done this before—just not with Malik standing there, looking at me like I was something foreign and terrifying. He’ll come around. He has to.
I root through the bloody clothes in my bag, my fingers brushing over the fabric until I find the keys in the pocket. Pulling them free, I slide into the driver’s seat. Her car smells like vanilla and cigarette smoke. I crank the ignition, my mind racing even as my hands move on autopilot. The night is quiet, still. I drive, keeping my speed even, my breathing slow. A few blocks from the bar, I pull over, scanning for cameras, for witnesses, for anything that might screw me over. When I’m satisfied, I slide out, leaving the keys in the ignition and the door unlocked. Someone will take it. Or they won’t. Either way, it’s not my problem anymore.
Walking briskly, I make my way to the nearby gas station. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, harsh and clinical, making my skin crawl. I grab a pack of Sun Cruisers, sliding them across the counter with a twenty. The cashier doesn’t look at me, just hands me my change with a muttered, "Have a good one."
I walk outside and pull up my Uber app. My fingers tap against the screen with practiced ease, my mind already moving ten steps ahead.
When the car pulls up, I slide into the back seat, inhaling deeply as the driver murmurs a greeting. I nod but don’t speak, staring out the window as the city blurs past. The tension in my shoulders remains, knotted and stiff, even as the distance between me and Elle’s car stretches.
When I get home, I lock the door behind me, double-checking, triple-checking. The air inside is still, carrying the faint scent of smoke and something sweeter—my last drink, maybe, or Malik’s cologne lingering on my sweater.
I toss my bag onto the couch and unzip it, pulling out the bloodied clothes one by one. The fabric feels cold and stiff in my hands, the memories of the night still clinging to it. I head straight for the wood furnace, the flames crackling hungrily as I throw the clothes inside. They curl and blacken instantly, the smell of burning cotton filling my nose. Evidence, gone.
I crack open a drink, the cold bite of alcohol steadying my nerves as I grab my phone and make my way to the bathroom. Steam fills the space as I turn on the water, the heat rising in waves, curling against my skin. I pull off my clothes, letting them pool on the tile, and step into the tub, sinking down inch by inch. The heat is almost unbearable, burning where it touches, but I force myself to stay under, to let it seep into my bones.
What the fuck am I gonna do?
Malik is mine. He has to move past this. He has to understand. I wasn’t lying when I told him I’d never hurt him. But I’ll hurt anyone who tries to take him from me. Anyone who thinks they can have what belongs to me.
My hands tighten around the edge of the tub, my nails digging into the porcelain. I will make him see. He is mine, and I am his. And I will burn down the world to make sure he never forgets it.
The heat starts to make my skin prickle, but I don’t move. I just stare at the ceiling, my mind spinning in circles, the alcohol dulling the sharpest edges of my panic but not enough to settle me completely. Malik said he’d keep my secret. That has to mean something. Right? He didn’t walk away completely. He didn’t call the cops. That’s a start.
But doubt creeps in like a slow-moving fog, thick and suffocating. What if he changes his mind? What if he decides he can’t handle it? What if he leaves me?
No. I won’t let that happen. I’ve fought too hard, worked too hard, loved too hard to let him slip away. I sit up, water sloshing onto the floor as I reach for my phone. My fingers are still damp as I type out a message.
Me: I love you. I meant it. You don’t have to answer, but I just need you to know that.
I hit send before I second-guess myself. The screen stays dark for a long time, long enough that my stomach knots up. Long enough that I drain my drink and sink deeper into the warm water, trying to distract myself from the tight feeling in my chest. Then, finally, my phone buzzes. My heart stutters as I snatch it up.
Malik: I know. I just… I need time.
Time. I hate that word. It’s useless. Time changes things. It makes people forget. It gives them space to pull away, to rewrite history, to convince themselves of things that aren’t true.
I toss my phone onto the counter and stand, water streaming down my skin. Time isn’t what he needs. He needs a reminder. He needs proof. He needs me.
And he’s going to get me. One way or another.