Chapter Twenty-Six
Jayla
The night before the Founders’ Convocation, Malachi taught me how to shoot.
“You’re holding it too tightly,” he said.
“I’m holding a weapon designed to kill somebody. This doesn’t feel like the time for a relaxed grip.”
We stood inside the private training room beneath his estate. Dorian occupied the booth behind us, watching through reinforced glass.
Malachi moved closer but didn’t touch me.
“May I adjust your hands?”
“Yes.”
He placed his hands over mine and shifted my fingers.
“Don’t fight the recoil. Control it.”
“That sounds like something you should tell your personality.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“I know.”
His body was warm against my back. Despite the gun, approaching war, and criminal gathering we planned to attend, my mind briefly wandered somewhere entirely inappropriate.
Malachi noticed my distraction.
“Focus.”
“I am focused.”
“On what?”
“Safety.”
His mouth moved near my ear.
“Liar.”
I pulled the trigger.
The bullet struck the outer edge of the target.
Malachi stepped back.
“That was intentional.”
“It absolutely was not.”
Dorian’s laughter came through the speaker.
“Do you need to be present?” Malachi asked him.
“Yes. Your flirting is painful, but I’m enjoying it.”
Malachi turned off the speaker.
I lowered the weapon.
“Will I carry this tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Why am I learning?”
“Because danger won’t wait for you to complete a lesson.”
He removed the magazine before taking the gun.
“Tomorrow, you remain with Micah near the archive controls. Dorian and I will be inside the ballroom. Asha will stop Julian’s sale while Nia searches for Lenora’s private files.”
“And Simone?”
“Helping remotely from the hospital.”
“She should be recovering.”
“Apparently, stubbornness is genetic.”
“What is my role?”
Malachi placed Grandma’s constellation chart on the table.
“If Lenora begins releasing the archive, you separate the protected files.”
“Which means I need access to her system.”
“Micah believes the keys can connect remotely once you’re inside the winter garden.”
“And if he’s wrong?”
“We destroy the servers.”
“That could erase the evidence against Victor’s network.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“You’re willing to lose everything?”
“I won’t let Lenora expose victims.”
“Even if protecting them means Julian keeps the company?”
“It’s a company.”
“You built it.”
“People matter more.”
That answer proved he was no longer the man Lenora expected.
“What if you get the chance to kill her?” I asked.
His expression closed.
“That isn’t your concern.”
“It is if we’re building something together.”
“She murdered people. Manipulated my mother and Simone. Threatened my siblings. She tried to take you.”
“None of that answered me.”
Malachi stared at the paper target.
“I don’t know.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“The truth.”
I touched his hand.
“I won’t ask you to forgive her. But killing Lenora before she exposes the network might protect the criminals she helped create.”
“I understand.”
“And if you become the person who executes everyone who hurts you, eventually there won’t be much difference between justice and revenge.”
His jaw tightened.
“You sound like Evelyn.”
“I’ll accept that compliment.”
“It wasn’t entirely one.”
I smiled.
Malachi lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles.
“Come upstairs. You need sleep.”
“So do you.”
“I’ll sleep after checking security.”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“No?”
“You said we’re learning not to control each other. Tonight, I’m inviting you to sleep beside me.”
His attention sharpened.
“To sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing else?”
I appreciated him asking.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Jayla.”
“What?”
“I need a clear answer.”
The careful seriousness in his voice softened me.
“I want you beside me. I want to kiss you. If I want anything more, I’ll tell you.”
“All right.”
“And if I change my mind?”
“We stop.”
No frustration. No negotiation.
Just certainty.
“Then come to bed.”
Malachi lay on top of the blankets wearing a black T-shirt and sweatpants. He had positioned himself along the far edge of the mattress as if an invisible border divided us.
“You know this bed is larger than my first apartment.”
“I’m giving you space.”
“You look like you’re preparing to escape.”
“I’m comfortable.”
“You have half your body hanging over the side.”
“I said I’m comfortable.”
I turned off the lamp.
Darkness settled around us.
For several minutes, neither of us moved.
“Malachi?”
“Yes?”
“You can come closer.”
He shifted toward the center.
“Closer.”
He moved another inch.
“This is painful.”
“I’m respecting your boundaries.”
“You can respect them from less than three business days away.”
He finally turned onto his side.
Our faces were close enough for me to see his eyes adjusting to the darkness.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
I placed my hand against his chest.
His heart beat steadily beneath my palm.
“Do you dislike being touched while you sleep?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve never slept beside anyone?”
“Not for an entire night.”
“What about relationships?”
“I left afterward.”
“Charming.”
“I didn’t pretend to offer more.”
His honesty rarely arrived decorated.
I respected that.
“Can I hold you?” I asked.
“You’re already touching me.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
His expression shifted.
“Yes.”
I tucked myself against him. Malachi’s body tightened before slowly relaxing.
His arm settled around my waist.
“Too much?” I asked.
“No.”
“Tell me if it becomes too much.”
“I will.”
We kissed slowly.
When his hand moved along my back, my body tensed.
He stopped immediately.
“Do you want me to move?”
“No. Give me a second.”
His hand remained still.
I breathed until the old memories released their grip.
Then I guided his palm higher.
“This is okay.”
Malachi kissed my forehead.
“We don’t have to do anything.”
“I know.”
That was why I wanted to remain.
I kissed him again, allowing myself to feel desire without mistaking it for danger. We explored carefully, checking with each other and stopping whenever my body needed time.
We didn’t have sex.
For the first time, stopping didn’t feel like disappointment or failure.
It felt like trust.
Later, I rested with my head against his chest.
“Are you awake?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“You’re tapping my back in sets of four.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No.”
I listened to his heartbeat.
“What happens if we survive tomorrow?”
“When.”
“Fine. When we survive?”
“I give my statement concerning Victor.”
“And if they charge you?”
“Asha fights it.”
“What happens to us?”
“You continue allowing me to court you.”
“From prison?”
“If necessary.”
I lifted my head.
“That was almost a joke.”
“It wasn’t.”
“We’ll work on your humor after the family war.”
His arm tightened around me.
“What do you want afterward?” he asked.
“My studio rebuilt. Free art classes for children. A gallery where new artists can show their work.”
“What would you call it?”
I thought about Grandma, the mural, and everything broken that had led me here.
“The Red Door.”
Malachi nodded.
“You’ll have it.”
“I’ll build it.”
“I know.”
That distinction mattered.
“And you?” I asked.
“What do you want?”
He was quiet for so long that I thought he wouldn’t answer.
“My family in one room without someone shooting at us.”
“A modest dream.”
“And you.”
My chest warmed.
“You already have me.”
“I want you when you no longer need protection.”
I kissed his chest.
“Then ask me again after tomorrow.”
He held me through the night.
For once, neither of us needed to be rescued.
We only needed to remain.