Page 30 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

Malachi leans back, his expression thoughtful.

“I don’t think he’ll come here, but it’s possible.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. Everything here is hidden.

He doesn’t know about the Depths, and he thinks Irina is running a ranch and living in peace like she’s always wanted.

He has no idea what’s actually going on right under his nose. ”

His gaze softens as it locks with mine, “I told you I’d free you, and I’m going to. My father’s days are numbered, Kat. When he comes—or when he summons you—we’ll be ready to handle him.”

My heart twists at the certainty in his voice. It feels like hope, like someone’s taken the impossible and cracked it open enough to see light shining through. But his assurance only stirs more questions.

“I still need to finish the case,” I say, almost expecting him to argue against it, to tell me it’s too dangerous or unnecessary now.

“Agreed,” he says, surprising me. “We’ll want Viktor to stay ignorant of everything, so we have to play along for now. And Marco may still expect updates from you.”

I nod, taking another bite of my taco, even though the food tastes dull compared to the storm of thoughts whirling in my head. There’s so much to process, so much I want to ask, but I focus on one truth: for the first time in years, I’m not entirely alone in this fight.

“So, Mal,” I say, popping a chip into my mouth and swirling another in salsa, “what did you do today when you disappeared for so long?”

He looks up from his plate, his mouth twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “You caught that, huh?”

“Of course,” I say, smirking. “I notice everything. By the way, I’ve decided ‘Savior’ is a much better nickname.

It’s more fitting, especially now that I know your team is called fucking Solace.

” I lean forward. “Speaking of names, what’s the deal with you and Rain?

You say there’s nothing going on with Lana, but what about Rain?

She seemed awfully comfortable calling you ‘Mal.’ Is that her pet name for you? ”

Malachi’s eyes widen, but a chuckle escapes him anyway. “She’s called me Mal forever. And there’s nothing going on there either. We’re friends. She’s a hell of a fighter though. You should train with her sometime.”

I mull that over for a second, dipping another chip. “I’ll consider it, but that still doesn’t answer my question. What were you actually up to?”

He shakes his head, leaning back in his seat with a look that says you’re relentless.

“I had to call my team back in the Eastern District to check in. I wanted to make sure everything’s going smoothly with the two Avids we saved and see if they’ve picked up anything unusual while surveilling Viktor’s place. ”

That grabs my full attention. “Is Aurora alright? Did they say anything’s going on at Viktor’s?”

“Your friend’s fine,” he assures me. “Better than fine, now that she’s out of that hellhole.

As for Viktor’s place, they said there’s been a lot of people coming and going but no one they recognize yet.

They must be interrogating suspects or gearing up to retaliate against whoever they think broke in. ”

I sit back in my chair, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “I’m glad we’re not there anymore. It’s nice to talk freely here…and breathe. No shadows hovering.”

Malachi quirks a brow. “I’m not sure if I should take offense to that. Technically, I’m close by all the time now. Does that count as hovering?”

I glance at him, my lips curving into a small smile. “No, it doesn’t feel suffocating like before. It’s different. I can’t explain it, but I’m starting to enjoy your company.”

He doesn’t say anything at first but watches me with those unreadable eyes. Finally, he smirks, reaching for another taco. “Careful, you‘re starting to sound like you actually like me.”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head as I take another bite. “Don’t push it, Savior.”

“Now that nickname has to go,” Malachi says, laughing harder, and I can’t help but join him. It is ridiculous, but I like it.

Maybe a little too much.

I tuck the thought away, letting the laughter fade naturally. “I kind of like ‘Mal’ too,” I tease. “Maybe I’ll use them both.”

He shakes his head, grinning. “You’re incorrigible.”

“What’s your plan for after dinner?” I ask, noticing we’re both nearly finished with our food. I have no idea what his evening routine looks like—or if he even has one.

“That all depends on what you’re doing,” he says, his eyes questioning.

I narrow my gaze playfully. “Remember when I told you about projecting and how I’ll probably have to do it to get through to Carmen and Damien? I think I’m going to try it before bed.”

His expression shifts immediately. “Then I’m staying to supervise this. Marco told me how it usually goes when you project—he said he has to carry you to bed afterward.”

I tug my bottom lip into my mouth, suddenly feeling awkward for reasons I can’t quite pin down. “Yeah, it can make me really tired—like dead-to-the-world tired—but I’m going to test the waters tonight. I won’t be out long, so I’m hoping it won’t be too bad.”

He nods, getting up to clear the plates. “Alright, but don’t push it.”

I head to the bedroom to change into my pajamas, moving quickly so he doesn’t think he’ll need to help with that later. Not that I’d let him, but still. The thought makes my cheeks warm.

Once I’m dressed, I start pacing the room, my nerves building.

It’s been a while since I’ve done this, and no matter how many times I project, the anxiety always lingers.

There’s something about willingly stepping into the veil—a world that feels as if it’s constantly shifting, always watching—that makes my stomach twist.

For a brief second, I wish Bash were here. Maybe he really could experiment on me, figure out a way to make me stronger, more resilient. Maybe even take away the exhaustion afterward.

Malachi knocks lightly on the door. “Are you going to do it in the bedroom? Or does it not matter where you are?” he asks, and I pull the door open and walk out. “You don’t care if the ghosts see you in tiny pink pajamas?”

I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m wearing. I figured I’d try in here since it’s closer to the bed.”

He moves to one of the leather chairs at the foot of the bed and takes a seat, stretching out like he plans to settle in for the show. His attention is fully on me, making the whole situation even more awkward. Great. Last thing I need is an audience.

“You look nervous,” he says, his brows pulling together. “Is this dangerous? Maybe you shouldn’t do it.”

I force a smile, though my nerves are real. “I’ll be fine. But whatever you do, don’t interrupt me. I won’t be able to respond until I’m done.”

He rubs his chin thoughtfully, the faint shadow of stubble making him look more serious. “I won’t interrupt, but I’m here if anything goes wrong.”

Nothing’s going to go wrong.

But his concern doesn’t help the knot forming in my stomach. Taking a deep breath, I nod and step toward the bed. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

I cross my arms over my chest, close my eyes, and take a few steadying breaths.

Malachi, thankfully, remains silent. I try to pretend he’s not sitting there, probably staring at me like a hawk.

The thought almost breaks my concentration, but I refocus, imagining the veil—the thin, intangible wall between space and time.

I force my mind through it.

When I open my eyes, the world has shifted.

The room is dim and shadowy, like all the color and warmth have been sucked out of it.

I glance back and see my body still seated on the bed, arms crossed, chest rising and falling slowly as if I were simply meditating.

Malachi sits in the chair, his posture tense, eyes locked on me—or rather on my physical body.

His intensity hasn’t changed, and seeing him like that, unaware of my presence, is both unsettling and grounding.

The temperature plummets suddenly, the air turning icy and thin, and I shiver.

A soundless vibration ripples through the space, a low hum I feel more than hear.

Then the room begins to change around me, the walls stretching, melting, twisting like ink spreading across water. I know I’ve crossed over.

The veil has opened.