56. Malachi
Chapter 56
Malachi
Connor and I have more or less been “dating” quietly for the last week. He hasn’t been pushy, hasn’t popped up at my dorm unannounced again, and has even held back on blowing up my cell phone. I know it must kill him not to go Full Connor, but that’s just something he has to live with if he wants me back.
Am I taking advantage of this? Fuck, yeah, I am. But at least he’s giving me the space and freedom I asked for.
The dorm door opens, and I glance up from my laptop to see Aiden stepping in, kicking the door shut behind him with a casual ease. He tosses his keys onto the small table by the door and leans against the frame, giving me that mildly curious look I’ve gotten used to over the last couple of weeks.
“You going to the bonfire tonight?” he asks, shrugging out of his leather jacket and hanging it over the back of a chair. The easy way he says it makes it sound like I should already know what he’s talking about, but I have no fucking clue.
“What bonfire?” I ask, closing the lid of my laptop and swiveling around in the chair to face him fully. He raises a brow, and there’s a faint twitch at the corner of his lips, almost like he’s amused that I’m so clueless about campus life.
“The Five Crowns’ welcome back thing,” he says slowly, dragging a hand through his dark, messy hair. “It’s at their suite. They always throw one after they get back from whatever the hell they’re doing off campus. Basically, everyone shows up, drinks too much, and tries to impress them.”
I sit up straighter, my pulse suddenly kicking up a notch at the mention of the Five Crowns. Connor. Fuck. My throat tightens a little, but I school my expression, trying not to let my excitement show too obviously.
I haven’t met Connor’s friends yet, but apparently they want to meet me. I’m still wary, so I’ve been putting it off, but I guess I can’t keep doing that. It must be why he didn’t tell me about this bonfire thing.
“Sounds pretentious.”
He smirks. “It is. But it’s also the biggest party of the semester. And, you know, free booze.”
I hum, pretending to think about it, then glance at him. “You going?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I go with you?” I ask quickly, probably a little too fast considering the surprised look Aiden shoots me.
He eyes me for a second like he’s trying to figure out why the hell I’d care, then shrugs one shoulder. “Sure, why not? You never leave the damn dorm, anyway. Maybe you’ll have some fun.”
I nod, pretending not to feel that embarrassing flutter in my chest. I shouldn’t feel excited. Fuck, I shouldn’t feel anything, especially since I’m supposed to be taking this time to find myself and all that crap. But just knowing I’ll see Connor again has me feeling stupidly hopeful. Like some fucking lovesick fool.
Yes, I saw him earlier today—but it doesn’t matter. I still get those stupid butterflies every time I see his stupidly gorgeous face. Now that I’m out of that room, away from expecting him to just show up like he used to, every glimpse of him feels new. Unexpected. And way too exciting for my own good.
At seven-thirty, I’m pulling on my shoes and following Aiden down to his sleek black Charger. He revs the engine once as we pull out of the parking lot, a subtle smirk on his face as he catches my expression. He drives fast; the music is loud and the windows are down, the cool evening air whipping through the car. I relax slightly, letting the anticipation and anxiety bleed away a bit.
The second I see where the Crowns live, I roll my eyes.
Five massive brownstone townhouses sit in a grand cul-de-sac, each one a statement. The grand arched doors, the wrought iron balconies, the decorative edges on the roofs—everything about them screams old money, power, and untouchable status.
“Of course they live here,” I mutter dryly, glancing at him. “Nothing screams humble like a fucking palace on campus.”
Aiden chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Welcome to the world of the elite, Malachi,” he drawls sarcastically. “Try not to choke on all the pretentious bullshit.”
Aiden parks the Charger with practiced ease and we step out, making our way to the bonfire already blazing behind the suites.
The place is packed, students milling around holding drinks, laughter mixing with chatter and music from hidden speakers. We grab a couple of beers and linger near the edges of the crowd, watching as everyone talks and laughs, waiting for something—though I’m not sure exactly what.
I keep glancing around, scanning the faces, but there’s no sign of Connor yet. The disappointment that hits me each time I don’t find him is almost embarrassing, and I shove it down, forcing myself to listen as Aiden starts talking music, something safe and easy.
We’re deep into a discussion about Sleep Token’s lore when suddenly, the entire atmosphere shifts.
Heads turn, whispers ripple through the crowd and conversations quiet down until only the crackling bonfire fills the silence. A group emerges from the direction of the suites, the five figures walking in perfect synchronization, black matte masks covering their faces. Each mask has a unique silver engraving over the left eye—spade, diamond, club, heart, and one with a jester’s hat.
My eyes latch onto that one immediately.
I know those tattoos, the sharp lines and the dark ink against pale skin. Fuck, I’ve licked them enough times to know exactly how they taste. My face heats instantly, embarrassment and longing twisting in my chest. He’s wearing black jeans that hang dangerously low on his hips, his heavy black boots crunching against the grass.
He’s shirtless because, of course, he fucking is; the sculpted muscles of his chest and stomach are on full display. A leather holster crosses his chest and biceps, holding god knows what.
Fucking hell, he looks dangerous. Like something out of a nightmare—or a fantasy, depending on how fucked up you are. And judging by the way people are looking at him, I’m not the only one thinking it.
I swallow hard, forcing my attention back to the group as they come to a stop in front of everyone.
“Welcome back, everyone,” Connor speaks and a few cheers go up, but most people stay quiet, waiting. There’s a presence to them—to all of them. But Connor? He owns the space.
“We’ve been away handlin’ business, but now we’re back. That means some changes.” He glances around. “The ten of you participatin’ in Legacy Week need to move to the Mikhailov Suite when we’re done here. You’ll be briefed on what will be required of you.”
Diamond Mask steps up next, his voice smoother, almost amused. “For those of you still catching up, the rumors are true. We have a new Crown this year.” There’s a pause before he turns slightly, motioning toward the heart mask. “Konstantin Drakos, the newest Crown Heir. Welcome, brother.”
I try to pay attention as the other Crowns—club and spade masks—briefly speak about events and expectations, but it’s hard to concentrate when Connor’s standing there, practically fucking glowing with dominance and strength.
My mind keeps flashing back to the other night, to his kisses, his whispered apologies, and the sincerity in his voice when he said he loved me. It feels impossible that this powerful, dangerous man is the same one who touched me so gently, who begged for forgiveness and promised to do better.
Connor finally steps forward again, his head tilting slightly as he speaks once more. “Enjoy tonight, everyone. Let’s have some fun and set the tone right for this year. Legacy Week participants, you have five minutes to report. Don’t make us come lookin’ for you.”
There’s a collective chuckle from the crowd, tension dissipating as the music picks back up, chatter resuming. But my eyes are still locked on Connor as he turns, moving back toward the suites with the other Crowns flanking him.
“Earth to Malachi,” Aiden chuckles softly beside me, nudging my shoulder again. “You good?”
I blink, pulling my gaze away from the now-empty spot where Connor stood. I exhale shakily, nodding once. “Yeah,” I manage to rasp, clearing my throat. “Yeah, I’m good.”
He raises a brow, clearly amused. “You sure? You look like you’re about to pass out. Didn’t realize you had a thing for the Crowns.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, my cheeks heating embarrassingly. But there’s no denying he’s right. My pulse races, my skin feels hot, and fuck—I’m swooning. Completely fucking gone for the guy who stormed into my life, flipped it upside down, and somehow made everything better and worse all at once.
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on something other than Connor fucking Cunningham. “What the hell is Legacy Week, anyway?” I ask, trying to distract myself.
Aiden chuckles, shaking his head. “Legacy Week is basically their initiation,” he explains casually. “You know, typical secret society shit—hazing, tests, loyalty checks. They pick ten legacies from the most powerful families here, put them through the wringer, and decide who gets access to the inner circle. It’s intense, fucked up, but they’ve done it for decades.”
I nod slowly, processing everything he says, but mostly I’m still stuck on the fact that Connor’s officially back at Willow Bridge. Seeing him like that—so fucking powerful and commanding, completely owning his role as a Crown Heir—stirs something deep inside me.
Desire, pride, maybe even a little awe. And beneath it all, that nagging doubt—the insecurity that whispers Connor’s way out of my league, destined for a life far greater than anything I could ever offer.
Still, our conversation keeps replaying in my head. That shit was real—I felt it down to my bones.
I take a long drink from my beer, feeling warm and hopeful for the first time in months. Whatever’s ahead, whatever chaos and trouble Connor brings back into my life, I’m here for it.
Because as much as he’s got all this power at his fingertips—as much as he’ll be a king someday—he made it perfectly clear that I’m the one holding all the fucking cards.
And that realization has me smiling into my beer, finally feeling like things might actually turn out alright.
Because fuck, I’m already in way too deep. I never stood a chance of getting out, even if I wanted to.