Fearless

MALACHAI

I couldn't move. Not because I was physically restrained, but because the weight of humiliation pressed down on me, suffocating, unbearable. The taste of blood lingered in my mouth, metallic and thick, a constant reminder of my failure. I could still hear Lucius' laughter echoing in my skull, the mocking amusement in his voice as he paraded my weakness in front of everyone.

Weak.

That's what they all saw when they looked at me now. A failure. A joke.

I stayed where I had fallen, my face buried in the dirt, because standing up meant acknowledging what had just happened. My own men, those I had bled with, killed with, had spat at me as they walked past. They didn't even try to hide their contempt.

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood.

Lucius had made sure I watched. He had made sure I saw every punch, every kick, every snap of Ezra's fragile bones. He had made me stand there, his hand gripping the back of my neck like I was some disobedient mutt, forcing me to look at the ruin he was making of Ezra.

And I had done nothing.

I could still hear Ezra's screams, raw and broken, still see the way his body twisted under the onslaught, his face battered beyond recognition, his arm hanging limp at an unnatural angle. And worst of all…i had seen it in his eyes.

The moment Ezra stopped believing I would save him.

The moment I truly lost him.

A sharp pain lanced through my chest, worse than any wound I'd ever suffered in battle. But I shoved it down. I had no right to mourn what had never been mine to begin with.

I forced myself up, every muscle screaming in protest. My knees buckled, but I caught myself. Lucius was watching from the balcony above, a smirk curling his lips as if he was waiting for me to crumble again. Waiting for me to prove him right.

I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

I staggered toward my quarters, my vision swimming, my body broken but my mind sharp…sharper than it had ever been.

Weak. That's what they called me.

Never again.

I slammed the door behind me, leaning against it, my breaths ragged and uneven. I needed to think. I needed a plan.

Six months. That was how long I had left before my contract with Lucius was up. But Ezra…

Ezra wouldn't last another month under Lucius' wrath.

I let out a low, humorless laugh. I had spent so much time convincing myself that I could keep my distance, that whatever I felt for Ezra didn't matter. But it did. It mattered more than I wanted to admit.

Lucius thought he had broken me.

He thought he had crushed whatever small rebellion had sparked in me.

But he was wrong.

I wasn't broken.

I was angry.

And I was done being weak.