Chapter 48
JAV
The air outside the apartment complex is cold enough to bite.
Maliek’s waiting by the corner post, coat collar up, a sleek compad in one hand like a prop he hopes makes him look powerful. His reflection shimmers faint in the glass of the lobby door, a shadow stitched out of ambition and bitterness.
I step out onto the pavement.
He turns, smirking like a man who’s been rehearsing this confrontation all day. “Mr. Kuraken,” he says. “Or should I call you Jav? I never know which name you’re hiding behind these days.”
I stop two feet from him. No raised voice. No heat. I just meet his gaze until that smugness wavers a hair.
“You’re up late,” I say.
“Had paperwork to drop off,” he replies, tapping the folder under his arm. “You’ll want to read it carefully. It’s a custody petition. Filed legally, of course. You’ve got a reputation, after all—I thought you’d appreciate doing this the right way for once.”
His words are a test, little hooks he’s throwing out, hoping I’ll bite.
I don’t.
I step closer, until the distance between us is measured in heartbeats.
"Go ahead," I say, voice low and dangerous. "File the petition. Request the DNA panel. Do it."
Maliek blinks, his smirk faltering. "You think I won't?"
"I’m counting on it," I say. "Because I don’t need a chip to tell me what’s in his blood. I felt it the second I held him. He’s mine, Maliek. You want to bet your career on a paternity test against a Grolgath? Be my guest."
Maliek stares at me, color rising in his cheeks. He knows I’m not bluffing.
“You think this changes anything?”
“I think it changes everything,” I say. “You’ve been playing house with my family, Maliek. But the game’s over.”
His laugh is small and brittle. “You think you can just waltz in after all these years and be the hero? You’re a criminal, Jav. You’re the reason she had to raise that boy alone.”
The words land hard, but I don’t flinch. He wants a reaction. Wants to drag me back into the blood and fire.
Not tonight.
“You’re right,” I say simply. “I’m a lot of things. But I’m his father. That’s not something you can file paperwork over.”
I take a step closer—slow, deliberate. Not threatening. Just presence.
“And between us,” I murmur, “you might want to think about why a kid you claim to care about runs to me when he’s scared instead of you.”
His jaw locks.
“You don’t get to—”
“I don’t want to fight you,” I interrupt. “I’m done with fighting. But if you ever scare them again—if you ever use the law to try and own them—I will make sure every court on this planet remembers who you really are.”
He stares at me, pulse ticking in his throat.
And then he looks away.
“Good night, Maliek,” I say softly, and turn back toward the door.
Behind me, I hear him exhale, sharp and angry. When I glance back, he’s already walking away—coat flaring, dignity trailing behind him like smoke.
Inside, the apartment lights are low. The air smells like cinnamon and soap. I kick off my boots and move quietly down the hall.
Kairo’s asleep on the couch, arm thrown over her face, a blanket half-slipped to the floor. Her breathing’s even, peaceful in a way I haven’t seen in years. I tuck the blanket back over her shoulders and brush my fingers once through her hair before heading to Ben’s room.
The door’s cracked. I nudge it open.
Ben’s still awake.
He’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by a small galaxy of glow-stars he’s stuck to the ceiling. A tiny Redscale plush—his handmade “Daddy Jav”—is tucked under one arm.
He looks up when I step in. “Hey,” he whispers. “Mom said I could stay up till you came back.”
“Did she?” I sit down beside him, the mattress dipping under my weight.
“Yeah.” He yawns. “She said you had to talk to a not-nice grown-up.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I say, smiling.
Ben tilts his head. “Was it about me?”
My chest tightens. “Yeah, kiddo. It was.”
He studies me for a moment with that too-old look he gets sometimes, the one that reminds me he’s Kairo’s child through and through—seeing everything, missing nothing.
“Did I do something bad?”
“No,” I say quickly. “You did everything right. You’re perfect, Ben. I just had to remind someone else of that.”
He nods, half-satisfied, then flops backward and stares up at the glowing stars. “Mom said I can ask you anything now.”
My throat feels thick. “She did?”
“Uh-huh.”
He rolls onto his side, facing me. “What’s it like? Being grolgath?”
I blink. “That’s a big question for bedtime.”
He shrugs. “I’m a big kid.”
I laugh softly. “Fair point.”
I lean back, propping myself on one arm.
“Being grolgath is… complicated. It means I’m stronger than most folks.
Heal faster. It also means I come from people who weren’t always kind.
We used to solve everything with claws and fire.
But we learned—slowly—that power’s just another tool. It’s what you do with it that matters.”
He listens, eyes wide. “Do I have claws too?”
“Maybe someday,” I say, smiling. “Or maybe you’ll get your mom’s gift for words instead. Either way, you’re gonna be unstoppable.”
He frowns a little. “Can I be both?”
That question hits somewhere deep.
I reach out, ruffle his hair, and say, “You’re allowed to be anything, kid. Both. Neither. All of it. Whatever you want.”
Ben’s smile spreads slow and sleepy. “Even a hero?”
“Especially a hero.”
He grins, tucks the plush under his chin, and mumbles, “You’re one too.”
I sit there long after his breathing evens out, the glow-stars fading slowly overhead.
And for once, I let myself believe it might be true.