“It’s not an even trade, Indigo. I’m not a fool. It’s a reset.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied my face. “Only you would tell me to my face that you’re trying to manipulate me. But fine. Invite her.”
She didn’t wait for me to respond. She walked out of the kitchen, her feet silent on the floor, leaving her empty plate between us.
I reached for my phone to call the cleaners. I’d give her the house. I’d give her the car. I’d even give her the apology. I’d give her anything, as long as it brought the fire back into her eyes.
Because this cold, compliant version of Indigo was something I hadn’t prepared for.
Chapter 26
Malachai
The living room of the old house smelled like a mixture of dust and expensive cleaners.
By ten o’clock the night she told me she wanted to move back, we were back, and Maya had eaten dinner and gotten my apology. Now, the bottle of tequila she had brought was half-empty. Indigo was curled into the corner of the new oversized velvet sectional, her head lolling against the cushion.
Maya, however, was wide awake. I didn’t know if I liked her or disliked her. She was honest in a way I didn’t find useful. So was Indigo, but in a different way.
Maya had a history of losing control of herself. Drugs. Bad decisions. Instability. She’d already proven she could be reduced to something lesser. But I could also respect someone who'd crawled out of the gutter and stayed out. That took a kind of discipline I understood. She was also loyal to Indigo in a way that didn't require calculation. That was rare in our circle. That was worth tolerating the mess.
She shifted, leaning forward now with her elbows on her knees, her eyes bright with liquid courage as she stared at me. I sat in my usual wingback chair, sipping a club soda, watching them both.
“You know,” Maya started, pointing a finger. “You ever thought about just… not lying to her? Like, as a lifestyle choice?”
I tilted my head, my expression as flat as a sheet of glass. “No. I use any means necessary to keep what is mine.”
Maya let out a loud laugh that made Indigo stir in her sleep. “Jesus, you sound like a damn robot all the time. You’re like a mixture of Raziel and Priest. You’re basically their son.”
“I am nothing like them.” It wasn't an insult, just a fact.
“Please,” Maya scoffed. “You’re all cut from the same twisted cloth. You think you can control the world by squeezing it. You ever think she might actually want to stay if you stopped playing God with her life?”
“She already is staying,” I said.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is,” I replied. “The outcome is identical.”
Maya stared at me for a long beat, looking as if she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or throw her glass at my head.
“And you?” I asked, my voice dropping into that low, dangerous hum. “Didn’t you manipulate Raziel for months? You played the damsel, you used the doctor to make him jealous, you cried, you were his side piece until you had him exactly where you wanted him. Don't talk to me about ethics, Maya. You know how to pull strings just as well as I do.”
“I did it for love and survival,” she snapped back. “Can you even love?”
“Explain that to me. Love. What is it, exactly? Beyond a chemical imbalance designed to ensure the survival of the species.”
“It’s a feeling, Malachai. It’s when someone’s soul matters more than your own. It’s... it’s wanting them to be happy even if it doesn't involve you.”
“Sentiment,” I refuted. “If someone matters to me, their happiness is my responsibility to manage. How does love work on my part if I let her go? If I can see her with someone else, how is that love? You say you love Raziel. Let’s test the weight of that. Would you kill for him?”
Maya didn’t blink. “In a heartbeat.”
“Would you do anything to keep him? Lie? Manipulate? Burn down the world he lives in just to ensure he’s standing in the center of the ashes with you?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice fierce.
“Then we aren't so different, Maya. You wrap your love in poetry because you want to feel like a protagonist. I skip the metaphors. But we both reach for the same weapons. If you’d do anything to keep him, then you understand that love isn't about letting go. It’s about the strength of the grip.”