Chapter 58 Malec
Malec
Istopped counting the filthy bodies after the fifteenth one. They really don’t learn, they're just coming charging at me instead of away.
They chose death. But at least they’re loyal.
They’re going to meet their boss soon anyway. No need to thank me.
“Where in the merhell is she? This place is never-ending,” I mutter to Myko, kicking open another door.
So many rooms. Endless corridors. Just more armed men guarding—what, exactly?
Empty walls? Ghosts?
No merfolk. No Roran.
Not even the so-called fake ‘medicine’ I was sure Fedor stockpiled.
“At least you’re feasting today. Makes it easier for you to hold on until the next hunt,” Myko snarls. Probably thinks he's funny.
He hums. “No. I think I’m practical. We take what we can. You’re too stubborn to listen.”
He’s not wrong.
We should’ve brought Onyx to locate Roran from the start, but I couldn’t take that risk. She might’ve killed her on the spot.
Maybe that’s why Morvakar led us here in the first place.
“It’s better this way. Morvakar can keep tracking the missing merfolk,” Myko finally agrees with something I did today.
The deeper I go, the more the stench of mold clogs my nose.
Underground, of course. That’s where they always hide the worst things. Like the rats they are.
I’ve already consumed the souls of a few guards down here, but none of them knew anything—no lies, no resistance. Their souls were empty of her.
I’m losing it.
If they moved her...
If she’s not here—
I kick open the last door in the corridor.
The smell hits first. Death.
Rot.
My stomach twists.
I scan the room—one cracked window, a broken chair, a table shoved against the wall under the window.
A rope on the floor.
Someone was tied up here.
My pulse spikes as I sweep the room again—frantic, desperate.
And then I see it.
A pink heel.
Roran’s.
“She was here,” I whisper. “Fuck. I missed her.”
My fists clench.
“I swear, I’m going to kill Fedor today.”
I turn to leave—and that’s when I see it. Fucking merhell.
That’s why it reeks like a slaughterhouse. I step closer to the thing on the floor.
A head.
Blond hair covering the face.
I kick it gently.
The face rolls into view.
Fedor.
It’s Fedor’s head.
“What the fuck is going on?” I rasp.
“Myko,” I bark, “update Bay. Something’s wrong.”
My jaw tightens. My lungs are struggling now. The air is thick with rot and dread.
If Fedor’s dead, and Roran was here…
Then she—
No.
No fucking way.
She’s not dead.
I bolt out of the room and backtrack, heart hammering, until I spot a corridor I missed.
Three doors. All open. All empty. The same shit as before, but at the end of this hallway, there's a staircase.
I race up the steps two at a time.
“Myko. Be alert. Anyone up there?”
“There are three humans ahead.”
I tap into my mother’s power. My skin hums with fury. The second I step into the upper floor, I stop cold.
The ‘medicine’—that grotesque, blood-filled tank is standing in front of me, mocking my kind like it’s alive and breathing.
Rage slams into every nerve. The runes along my skin flicker violently—like every merfolk lineage inside me screaming, roaring, rising. Hating.
These humans.
The filth of creation.
Born powerless, yet arrogant enough to think they own this world. That we don’t belong beside them.
I raise my hand. A single wave and the tank crashes to the floor. The blood explodes outward, seeping into every crack, every stone in this vast storage space.
This place will reek of vengeance long after we’re gone.
“They found the merfolk,” Myko says, relief lacing his voice.
Only then do I exhale.
“I’m getting them out. Seventeen merfolk in total,” he adds.
I reach into my pocket when I remember the Sur-El pendant. It radiates warmth even through the handkerchief, even through my pants.
I should've given it to Bay before I ran in, I didn't even think. But luckily, she has Onyx.
We’re bringing them home. Finally.
Now only Roran’s left.
“To your right,” Myko warns.
Footsteps. Approaching. I turn, ready to kill.
Two men enter.
One looks familiar—smug, confident—the other stares at the floor, trembling. Not sure from what, but I know better than to expect any good news.
“Where’s Roran?” I ask, voice lethal.
The smug one stops a few feet from me, grinning like he owns the place. Maybe he is. I don’t care.
No power radiates off him, but trouble oozes from his pores. His soul is green. Steady—he's confident. Too confident.
Where did I see him before…
“What business do you have with my wife?” he asks, venom coating every word.
My stomach twists as his words hit me like a slap.
Ivan.
I saw him before on my father’s old files. His head was shaved in the picture he had—that's why it didn't click.
“I won’t ask again.” My voice drops into a growl. “Where is she?”
I step forward, hand tightening around the pendant in my pocket, soaking its warmth—trying to keep myself grounded.
“I think Fedor pampered you, boy,” Ivan sneers. “That’s no way to speak to the head of Miami’s family.”
His gaze flicks down, following the trail of blood across the floor, brows slowly knit together.
He doesn’t like what he sees.
Good.
Before I manage to say anything, he whips a knife from his belt and hurls it straight at me.
I catch it mid-air with only two fingers—seconds before it stabs my shoulder. No effort. No hesitation, my gaze locked on him.
“He’s trying to test me,” I mutter to Myko. “Tell my father Ivan’s here. I might have to kill him.”
Myko doesn’t reply. That’s permission enough.
I twirl the blade between my fingers. “Hope that’s not your best magic trick,” I mock. “Bit underwhelming.”
Ivan’s grin widens. He enjoys playing games, that much is clear.
“Where’s Roran?” I snap this time, getting impatient.
He glances at the other man.
“Vor.” He calls.
The man flinches, then slides the strap of the black sack off his shoulder and hands it over. Ivan reaches inside, glaring straight at me.
My blood runs cold.
Don’t show me what I think you’re about to show me.
He pulls it out slowly, like it’s actually a game. Like he’s savoring every second of it.
And then I see it.
Dark blonde waves.
Dangling.
Limp.
Her pale skin. It can’t be—
Roran’s head.
No.
My knees buckle.
Vision blurs at the edges, a haze of blue and white flooding my sight. The runes scream—hot, frantic, crawling under my skin like they're trying to claw their way out.
I stumble back, breath caught somewhere between my chest and throat, choking on a wave of agony that claws its way through every rib.
“He—” I can’t even finish the sentence.
“I’m coming,” Myko says.
“—He killed Roran.”
The roar tears out of me like it’s splitting me in two. My power flashes white-hot, uncontrolled. Myko’s not here to stop it.
I don’t care.
Roran’s gone.
I let the rage devour me.
No control this time. No mercy.
The glow spreads, blistering the walls, ripping through the world around me. A tsunami of raw, wild power. Blinding. Blue. Vicious.
I feel their souls—their last breath. Ivan’s. Vor’s.
“Malec! She’s alive!” Myko’s voice roars into the chaos.
What?
“Morvakar still senses her life force. She’s alive! Stop it, Malec! Or you’ll be the one to kill her!”
No.
I try to stop. Try to pull it back. But it’s too far gone.
“Myko, I—I can’t—”
“I’m close. Hold on!”
Another scream rips through me as I fight the blaze—too wild, too fast. Burning too deep. It’s burning everything.
But then I feel it.
Another soul.
No.
“No!” I cry out, just as the familiar shimmer of scales rushes around me. Myko wraps me in his hold, shielding me, forcing the chaos back where it belongs.
And I collapse.
For the first time in what feels like forever—I break.
Not from power. But from grief.
She gave me her trust…
And I shattered her soul.