"I mean that robot man you married. You leaving gave the tin man a heart. He's been a mess. A straight-up mess. Kael told me he ain't been working. Just sat in that house you two shared for months, then moved out because he couldn't handle the memories. Bought some place on the water in Tampa and basically became a ghost."
I didn't say anything. I just listened to the hum of the static on the line.
"I almost saw him cry one night," Maya continued, her tone softening. "We were all at Raziel's place and somebody mentioned your name—just mentioned it, not even talking about you—and he got this look on his face. Kael said later he'd never seen Malachai look like that. Like somebody had reached inside him and ripped something out."
I shook my head, even though she couldn't see it. "That doesn't sound like him."
"Heartbreak has a way of humanizing people, Indigo. Even sociopaths."
I stared at the stained carpet. Thought about the man I'd left bleeding on the floor three years ago. Thought about the look in his eyes when the knife went in. Shock. Confusion. Pain.
"I don't believe it, but just make the call, Maya. Please."
She sighed. "Alright. Give me an hour. I'll text you when they're here."
She hung up. I sat in the heavy quiet of that cheap hotel room and waited.
The text came an hour and a half later.
They're here. Both of them. Plus Kael. Come now before you lose your nerve.
I stood up. I looked at myself in the cracked bathroom mirror. I looked like hell—dark circles bruising my eyes, tangled hair, the same clothes I'd been wearing for three straight days on a Greyhound bus. I didn't bother fixing any of it. Let him see me like this; maybe I’d get some sympathy.
I drove to Maya's house on autopilot, the Florida roads blurring past me. Pulling into the driveway, I noticed Maya's two-year-old daughter had a pink tricycle left out on the front walk. I stared at it for a second too long, a sharp, familiar ache twisting in my gut as I thought about the baby I'd never hold. I had to steady myself with a deep breath, forcing the air into my lungs, then walked up to the door.
Maya opened it before I could even raise my hand to knock.
"Girl," she whispered, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside the entry hall. "You look terrible."
"Thanks."
"He's in the living room. With Raziel and Kael. I told them I needed to talk to Raziel about something, so they're all just... sitting there."
I took a breath. Let it out slow. "Okay."
Maya gripped my arm tighter. "You sure about this?"
"No." I shook my head, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I could feel sweat dripping down my back.
She nodded like that was the right answer. "Good. That means you got some sense, 'cause he looks like he's about ready to knock somebody's head off between the sofa and the TV. I gotmy pistol, so I won't let him kill you, but I'm scared for you. He knows you were stripping too."
Before I could respond, Maya's husband walked up to the door. His eyes went wide the second he saw me standing in his hallway. He grabbed Maya by the arm and pulled her out of the doorway and outside onto the porch, slamming the front door halfway shut behind them.
"This is why you got everybody here?" I heard his muffled voice growl.
Maya yanked her arm back and squared up to him on the porch. "Lower your voice," she snapped, glancing back toward the door. "Yeah, this is why. She needs help. She's my friend, I'mma help her. Don't be mad, Raz. Just make sure he doesn't choke her out or something."
Maya gave him those puppy dog eyes and fluttered her lashes, using the only leverage she had. Raziel dragged a hand down his face, already shaking his head. He knew this was about to turn into something messy, something loud.
"Fuck," he said, low and vexed. He stepped back inside, bypassing Maya, and jerked his head toward the living room. "Come on," he muttered to me. "Let's get this over with."
We walked toward the living room.
The moment I stepped through the doorway, everything stopped. The air turned to ice.
Kael's whole body went completely still. Then Malachai.
He was standing by the fireplace, one hand braced heavily against the mantle. Dressed in all black. He was thinner than I remembered, his jawline sharper, more lethal. Dark circles under his eyes matched mine perfectly. I wanted to scream athim for looking as broken as I felt, because he didn't have the right. Everything that had happened to us was his fault.