Page 24 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

Chapter Fourteen

“Is Mischka coming along on this little trip with us?” Malachi asks, taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Duh, she goes everywhere I go,” I laugh, and Mischka appears instantly, doing her signature little run up and down the aisle before hopping onto my lap.

Malachi shakes his head with an amused smile. “I wish I could see the world the way you do. Must be a trip.”

“Yeah, it’s always changing too,” I say, taking the water bottle he offers me.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks, tilting his head curiously as I take a sip.

“I don’t really know much about Avids or even my own abilities. I’ve never really had anyone to talk to about it. All I know is that over the years I’ve gotten stronger, and the more I use my gift, the more it evolves,” I tell him, stroking Mischka’s fur absentmindedly.

“Then why aren’t you using it all the time? If I were you, I’d be trying to become as powerful as possible,” he says, and I glance out the window, my thoughts drifting to the veil.

“Seeing the dead is still creepy, even for me, you know. Every time I project, it takes a toll,” I admit, watching the clouds blur past.

“When you project? I overheard my father and Orin talking about it before. Orin wanted to force you to do it. My father said it wasn’t a good time because it knocks you out for days—what the hell is that all about?

” Malachi places his hand over mine, and I let it fall to my lap, Mischka disappearing in an instant.

I glance down at his hand then up to meet his eyes.

When did he become comfortable enough to touch me?

And why does it feel like something’s shifted between us?

I don’t want to acknowledge it, so I quickly turn my gaze back to the window.

After a moment, he pulls his hand away, as if he feels the tension too.

“Projecting is when seeing the spirits in our world isn’t enough,” I begin, my voice softer now.

“I push a piece of myself—my soul—out into the veil, where I communicate with them on their terms. I see things from their perspective. That’s the best way I can describe it.

” I pause, my fingers tightening slightly on my lap.

“But when I do it, it’s…draining. And things feel different over there. It’s darker on that side of the veil.”

He leans back slightly, his brows furrowed, but he doesn’t speak right away, giving me the space to finish my thought. It’s oddly comforting. For someone I swore I didn’t like not too long ago, he sure has a way of making me feel heard.

But I don’t want to talk about projecting right now. I want answers. Real answers.

“Will you tell me where we’re going now?” I ask, my gaze flicking nervously to the window. All I see are endless clouds, but that doesn’t stop me from looking every few minutes, hoping for some clue.

“I’m taking you home. To my home, where I’ve been for the last ten years,” he says casually, like he’s discussing the weather.

I snap my head back toward him, eyes wide in shock. “Your home? You mean the Midwest District? I can’t believe Marco is letting you take me there. And without any security.”

“Yes, Midwest is right. And why is that so hard to believe?” He leans back, folding his arms like he’s challenging me.

I let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Because I’ve never gone anywhere without Marco. Ever. Not once since I met him.” It’s the unspoken truth of my life.

Malachi’s lips press into a firm line, his jaw tightening slightly.

He doesn’t say anything, but his expression shifts, like he’s deep in thought.

I can’t tell if my answer bothers him or if it’s another piece of information he’s filing away.

Either way, the silence stretches between us until I find myself resting my eyes.

“Rise and shine.” Malachi’s voice jolts me awake.

How long was I asleep? How long was the flight?

I sit up, brushing my hair out of my face, blinking at him as he’s already halfway out the plane door.

By the time I get to my feet, the pilot is shaking his hand, and then I watch as the plane takes off again.

Malachi begins loading our luggage into a truck parked inside the hangar.

I step out, surprised by the biting cold and the blanket of snow surrounding us. I’m not sure what I expected, but I guess it makes sense—it is the middle of winter.

“Ready?” he asks, sliding into the driver’s seat. I follow, climbing into the passenger side and glancing around the hangar. It’s eerily quiet, nothing like the chaos I’m used to. No one else is in sight. I like it. I feel like I can breathe better here.

I buckle my seatbelt, idly looking out the window at the shelves inside the hangar—random items scattered across them: a gas can, some old folders. But then I notice we’re not moving. Turning my attention back to Malachi, I find him leaned back against the window, watching me.

What the fuck?

“Why aren’t we driving?” I ask slowly, raising an eyebrow. My mind flashes through a series of worst-case scenarios, and I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the intrusive thoughts.

“We need to have a little talk before I take you to my home,” he says.

“A little talk?” I repeat, crossing my arms as suspicion settles into irritation.

He nods, his expression unreadable. “You have to understand, Katja. I need to know I can trust you.”

I glare at him, my annoyance flaring. “How can you not trust me after last night? I helped you. We saved those people together. If anything, I should be the one questioning if I can trust you.”

His gaze sharpens, but he stays calm, leaning forward slightly. “Last night was a start,” he says, running a hand over his hair, “but trust isn’t about one night or one action.”

I let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose before meeting his eyes again. “What else do you want from me, Malachi? How can I prove myself? And why the hell is this something we need to hash out right now in this creepy old hangar?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“If I take you to my home, if I let you see things there—if I let you into my life—there’s no turning back. No one can know the things you will be privy to.”

I sit back. There’s already no going back, not for me.

“I have nothing to go back to,” I say aloud, studying his face. “That’s the truth. Do you think I can go back to Marco after this? To that prison? After everything? I’ve already crossed the line, Malachi. You don’t see it yet.”

“You say that, and maybe you believe it,” he says finally. “You seem like you’re willing to help me, to do what it takes to take down my father—but you have to see why I hesitate to believe you.”

I feel the heat rising to my cheeks, frustration burning in my chest. “No,” I say even though I want to scream, “I don’t see why you hesitate to believe me. I’ve been nothing but honest with you.”

His jaw tightens, his eyes locked on mine.

“My father treats you like you’re more than some prisoner to him,” he says, the words biting.

“He treats you like you matter to him. Like there’s something more to your relationship than you’re letting on.

He worries about your life more than any of his sons’.

He gives you everything—nice clothes, a nice room.

The first time we met, for fuck’s sake, you were alone in a park, not even trying to escape.

” His voice sharpens, and I can see the questions burning behind his eyes.

“How am I supposed to believe you don’t enjoy whatever it is you have with him? ”

Something cold and sharp coils in my chest at his words, anger mingling with the raw sting of his accusations. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, trying to keep my emotions in check.

“Then you’re going to have to give me something, Kat. A reason to believe you, to trust you,” Malachi says, like he’s issuing an ultimatum. “If you can’t, that’s fine. I won’t be upset. We’ll go stay in a hotel, you’ll solve the case for Viktor, and in a few weeks I’ll take you back home to Marco.”

He says it so easily, like last night meant nothing. Like none of this matters. The thought makes my chest ache.

Last night meant everything to me, I think bitterly.

I was willing to let that creep touch me, willing to do something I’d never done before—something that made me sick to my stomach—to help his mission, to help free the Avids.

And now he sits here questioning my loyalty, questioning me as if my relationship with Marco could ever mean more than the chance to truly help people. ..or the chance at my own freedom.

What kind of deranged shit is he believing right now?

I know what I have to do. What I have to say. What I have to show him. But it’s not something I’m ready for—not this soon. I wasn’t prepared to have this conversation in this drafty old hangar with his eyes boring into me like he’s dissecting my every thought.

My throat starts to burn, and tears threaten to sting my eyes. I can’t let them fall. Not in front of him. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to focus on the physical pain until I feel more grounded. Until I regain some composure.

“I did try to escape, you know,” I finally say, exhaling slowly. “A few times.”

He watches me with that same thoughtful expression, his jaw tightening like he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next.

“The first couple of times, I was caught right away,” I say, my voice steady even though the memories threaten to overwhelm me. “They were poor excuses for attempts. I took a beating for it both times, but it only made me more hard-headed. I was so stubborn, so determined to get away back then.”

I let my gaze drop to my hands, twisting my fingers together in my lap as I continue. “I will admit I did have a sick appreciation for Marco—maybe I still do—because he saved me when he purchased me. He saved me from a place that was far worse than the pretty prison his home became for me.”

I tug my bottom lip into my mouth.