Chapter 25 Malec
Malec
Alessio is playing with fire again, and it hasn’t even been a few hours since he got back from Vegas. Pedro should’ve kept a better leash on him. Roran’s that bastard’s daughter; we need to move smart, not recklessly.
The fact that I can’t read her? Every flicker of emotion, every shift in her body language?
It’s disturbing.
If she is sick like she says—like I feel—then it’s something I’ve never encountered. Not on land. Not at sea.
She looks perfectly fine now, though—arms crossed, chin high, challenging Alessio like she’s got a spine carved from whale bones.
Her dress looks like it’s strangling her.
Tight enough that her chest looks like it’s about to revolt.
Not that I don’t appreciate the view—I am—but merhell…
that thing looks like a torture device disguised in satin.
And she’s off-limits. Way off-limits. I don’t touch anything that came from that filth. Even when every line in her waist and hips looks like some God decided to show off.
“Alessio,” I say when his hand lingers too long under her chin, his smirk already asking for a punch.
“What?” he groans—still staring at her, not even glancing back. They're locked in a silent war of wills, fire brimming in both their eyes.
“Come here. Now.”
That’s not a suggestion, and he knows it. He clicks his tongue in protest but finally lets go of her, shoving her chin aside as he turns and stomps toward me.
At least that Pedro Jr. still remembers who’s in charge. Good.
“She’s not a plaything,” I warn, voice low. “We need to be careful with this one.”
Roran collapses back onto the bench like a queen in exile, arms crossed again, still fighting the laws of gravity, her dress is barely holding back.
“I’m taking her to the beach villa. Matteo will keep watch on her.”
Alessio stiffens. “What? We can use her to take down Fedor completely! Why in the merhell would you take her to your parents’ beach house?”
I sigh, running a hand down my face. “Because you and your mother are coming with me. We’re heading to Kolox City. And there’s another princess we need to find…” I sigh just mentioning the extra task. “It won’t take long, we’ll take care of the Fedor issue when we’re back. Your powers are needed.”
He blinks at me like I just switched languages.
I don’t blame him. He never paid much attention to the old stories or the other pods' politics. My mom taught me most of the pod names, following the marks on my body, their meanings. The ones she didn’t know, my grandmother passed down like whispered prophecy.
But Alessio never cared for that enough to learn anything outside Mal-El lineage. He trained his power with his parents. He was raised to be second in line after Kayla—because black-blooded isn’t something you inherit, you’re turned into one like my mother. Or you’re chosen, like me. Like Aunt Bay.
Alessio nods after a long silence, trying to absorb what I just said.
I avoid him and step toward Roran, locking eyes with her again.
The black haze of her soul doesn’t match the light behind her blue eyes. There’s too much life flickering in them to make sense of the darkness wrapped around her. I can’t read her like I usually do with others, but I see enough.
She’s too aware of every movement in the room. Braced, calculating. Acting tough in front of people she knows she shouldn’t even breathe wrong around.
And the worst part?
She looks startled.
Not scared.
Which means one thing—she’s seen worse than death.
I stop right in front of her, my body blocking Alessio’s line of sight like instinct.
“You said earlier Ivan’s after your medicine too,” I murmur, leaning in just enough to make the question private.
Alessio doesn’t get information I haven’t confirmed. Not yet.
She nods, swallowing hard when I get close enough to feel her breath hit my skin. Warm. Soft. Too human.
Too dangerous.
Why in the merhell does being this close to her feel right?
“Do you know why?”
“Yes,” she blurts, quick and desperate. “And I’ll tell you everything—God, burn my father’s house down with him for all I care—but you have to promise to help me find my sister.”
There it is.
Loyalty.
I’d die for mine too. But that doesn’t mean I take terms from anyone.
I smirk, just inches from her lips. “I think you forgot whose hands you’re in. My territory. My men at every corner. And you’re still trying to bargain?”
Her soul pulses again, an unclear hum that shouldn’t make sense to me… but it does. It tugs at my senses. Pulls me closer.
What the fuck is wrong with that woman?
No.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I inhale sharply, clenching my fists to keep from losing control.
“Kill me if you see fit. I don’t fucking care—”
She jerks her head to the side, breaking our gaze.
“But save my sister, Diana. Please. I don’t know what kind of sick torture she’s enduring right now.”
“And here’s just another spoiled princess to save…” I mutter through clenched teeth.
Why is this suddenly my responsibility?
“What?”
She snaps her head toward me, eyes narrowing. “Spoiled princess?”
She struggles against the ridiculous fabric of her gown as she pushes to her feet—
I take a step back just in time to avoid catching her head under my chin.
“Do you have any idea how many scars I’ve hidden under this ridiculous dress? How many bruises I had to cover and swallow down for years just because I wasn’t born with a fucking dick between my legs? I was set to fail from the beginning. Me and my sister.”
She doesn’t wait for a response, just draws in another breath and keeps going.
“The only reason I’m still alive is because I ran my father’s damn strip club like a machine—kept Diana in line, kept quiet, followed orders.
You want leverage?" she snaps. "Fine. I’ll give it. I don’t care what you do to me.
But don’t pretend you don’t know what it means to protect your family," she shakes her head, exhausted. "You helped Diana before, because you get it. So don’t stand there and act like you’re going to walk away now. ”
She’s panting by the end of it, chest heaving in that suffocating dress. Whether it’s her rage or whatever’s wrong with her, I can’t tell—but her soul is humming again.
“Bright. Save—”
What the hell does that whisper mean?
“Malec.”
Alessio steps in closer. “You alright, cugì?”
Only then do I realize my hands are trembling.
I shove them quickly into my pockets and focus back on her.
If we get her sister too… that’s one more card to play.
One more reason to burn this whole marriage plot to the ground.
Even if her sister’s too young, Fedor would use her if it means still gaining power.
“Okay,” I say, voice low. “I’ll get your sister out. But you stay here, and when I bring her in, she does too. You both follow my lead. No exceptions.”
Let’s play.
“Cugì, have you lost your mind?” Alessio hisses beside me.
I grin. Maybe I did, but Fedor is going down.
“Leave you for one hour and you’re plotting with the enemy’s daughter? You really don’t want us to get any rest here, do you?”
Myko barges in, his voice slicing through the tension—I almost laugh. Almost.
But then Roran does something that makes my breath catch. Makes both me and Alessio freeze.
She drops to her knees.
Right there on the training room floor.
Eyes down. Shoulders squared.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “I’ll owe you my life.”