Chapter 9
Malachai
“I trust you to kill. So go kill.”
Her wish was my command.
I hadn’t killed anyone since Sasha.
After I finished with her, the hunger simply… vanished. Killing stopped meaning anything. The thrill, the purpose, the release — all of it went cold and gray.
Until now.
The abandoned meatpacking plant reeked of old copper, rust, piss, and fear. A perfect cathedral for what needed to be done.
Viktor Volkov hung from a motorized meat hook like a side of beef, his expensive suit soaked through with sweat. His feet dangled inches above the blood-stained concrete—decades of animal and human slaughter baked into the floor.
Kael leaned against a rusted pillar in the shadows, casually tossing a tactical knife and catching it by the blade. He looked bored.
“Why am I here when it was your wife who killed my brother?” Viktor wheezed, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth.
I stepped into the light. The fluorescent bulbs buzzed overhead, reflecting off my protective glasses.
“When you found out Indigo was my wife, you should’ve let it go.” I studied him—the way his chest heaved, the twitch in his fat fingers against the chains. “Your brother was a fucking leech. His life wasn’t worth the ink it took to sign his death certificate.”
Viktor exploded, straining against the chains. “Let me down, suka! You think you can touch me? The Volkovs have connections that run deep. Deeper than that psychotic whore you married. Deeper than her thug father—”
I didn’t move. Didn’t raise my voice.
“I don’t care.” My tone stayed flat. “You’re the last male Volkov. I already killed the rest. I know the women don’t matter in your world… but if I have to kill them too, I will.”
The color drained from Viktor’s face. The arrogance cracked.
“Yob tvoyu mat’…” he rasped. “You’re no different than us. You’ve killed more people than my brother ever dreamed of.”
He let out a broken, wet laugh.
“You’re worse than him.”
I stepped closer, close enough to smell the piss and terror leaking out of him.
“I kill bottom-feeders,” I said quietly. “I don’t slaughter innocent women and keep their things in glass cases like trophies.”
I reached for the leather roll on the steel table and pulled out the high-tension wire saw.
Kael let out a sharp whistle from the shadows. “I thought we were here for resolution, not a fucking debate.”
He had no patience for this shit.
Before I could respond, Kael moved. He slammed the lever, dropping Viktor until they were eye-to-eye. In one smooth motion, he drove the knife he’d been playing with deep into the Russian’s stomach and ripped upward in a brutal, practiced tug.
Viktor’s scream tore through the plant like a slaughterhouse hymn.
Kael released the lever. Viktor crashed to the concrete with a heavy, wet thud, guts spilling across the floor.
Kael wiped his blade on a clean rag, calm as ever. “There. Done. Seven for seven. Every male Volkov gone in a week.”
He grabbed a bottle of water off the table, took a long drink, then looked at me.
“When are you going to tell your wife it’s been taken care of?”
I didn’t answer. The silence was answer enough.
Kael shook his head. “You keep making the same mistakes with her, Mal. Every piece of advice I’ve given you, you ignored. And it keeps biting you in the ass. You’re just giving her more reasons to run.”
I stared at Viktor’s body. His eyes were still open, staring at nothing. Blood spread beneath him like a dark halo.
“Just tell her the truth,” Kael said. “Give her a real choice. Stay or go. If she stays, good. If she goes…” He shrugged. “Then you let her go. Or you win her back the right way.”
“The right way?” I echoed, voice low.
“Yeah. Grovel. Buy her an island. Send flowers every day for a year. Figure out how to be a man she actually wants to be around instead of the sociopath who forced her into marriage and failed to protect her.”
My jaw tightened. The Sasha situation again. Everyone loved throwing that in my face.
Kael grabbed his jacket off the pillar and headed for the door. He paused at the threshold, night air rushing in behind him.
“This is the most unhinged I’ve seen you, Mal. And I watched her stab you.”
He stepped outside, then looked back one last time.
“Fix it. Or let her go.”
The door slammed shut.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the carnage. At my hands. They were steady. They never shook.
But something inside me was trembling.
I dropped the wire saw onto the table with a clatter. I didn’t need it anymore.
The fire would take care of the rest.