Page 43 of Avidian (The Demon and the Savior #1)

Chapter Twenty-Four

“The living room will give you the best view,” Irina says as if reading my mind. I don’t waste a second, rushing toward it and creeping up to the window. I stay low, careful not to be seen, and peek through the curtains.

Malachi is leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on Orin.

“You’re starting to make a habit of this,” Malachi says finally, his voice calm but laced with steel. “Poking around where you don’t belong.”

Orin shrugs, unbothered. “Looking out for family. Someone has to keep you in line, little brother.”

Malachi laughs to himself. He pushes off the frame, closing the space between them until he’s standing toe-to-toe with Orin.

“Family?” Malachi repeats. “You really want to talk about family? Because the way I see it, the only reason you’re still breathing is because I haven’t decided otherwise.”

Orin tenses, his deranged grin faltering a bit. “Big talk for someone playing babysitter to Father’s pet.”

“Careful,” Malachi murmurs. He leans in slightly, his gaze unwavering. “You don’t want to test me. Not today.”

Orin lets out a dry laugh, but there’s a flicker of unease in his eyes. “What’s your problem, Mal? She’s an Avid. A tool. Don’t tell me you’re getting all worked up over her.”

Malachi straightens, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the weight of the conversation. “My problem is you. Showing up uninvited. Grabbing what doesn’t belong to you. Acting like you’re untouchable when we both know that’s not true.”

Orin raises an eyebrow, his cocky facade slipping slightly. “Are you threatening me?”

Malachi steps closer, so close their faces are almost level. “I don’t make threats, Orin. I make promises. You put your hands on her again, and I’ll make sure the next hole you dig is for yourself.”

Orin doesn’t move, but his grin falters completely, replaced by something darker—something more cautious. “You’ve got a funny way of showing loyalty to Father,” he mutters, stepping back. “Maybe I’ll let him know where your priorities really lie.”

“Do that,” Malachi says, cold. “See how well that works out for you.”

They stare at each other for a moment before Orin lets out a sharp laugh, holding up his hands.

“Fine. You want her? She’s all yours for now.

Enjoy her while you can, but don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.

” He scratches at his beard thoughtfully then gestures toward the house.

“Mark my words, there’s something off about her.

She’s headed for a bad end and doesn’t know how to stay out of trouble. ”

Malachi watches him get into his car, his fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. Only when Orin disappears down the road does he relax slightly, rolling his neck before turning back to the house.

I move to the front door, and as soon as Malachi steps inside, he closes the space between us, his arms pulling me into him.

My forehead presses against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming me.

The tension from earlier begins to unravel, his warmth like a shield against everything that happened tonight.

My heart clenches, a warning I ignore. I’ve been so careful to keep my distance to protect my heart and keep my feelings in check, but I fear it’s a battle I’m losing, and I lean into it now.

He slides his hand across my back, his touch firm and grounding. After a moment, his fingers find my shoulders. He leans back slightly, cupping my face, his thumbs gently moving over my cheeks as he studies me.

"Are you hurt? I should have known better than to leave you. Bash kept calling—he made a breakthrough with Avidian. I should have made him come here instead,” he says as he shrugs off his coat.

Draping it over my shoulders, he tucks the edges close around me like a blanket.

The fabric is warm and smells faintly of him, a scent that makes me want to bury myself in it.

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. Really. What did Bash have to show you?” I ask, pulling the coat tighter, letting the familiar weight of it settle me.

"He’s been working on a way to control the inhalation better. He’s created a mask with a button you can press to release just the right amount, so it lasts longer. It’s still in the early stages, but I’ll show it to you later. For now, let’s get you inside before you freeze."

I nod. “We should check on Irina.”

He searches my face then steps aside, one hand lingering on my arm as we head to the dining room.

Irina sits at the table, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over her features.

She clutches her wine glass, her fingers tightening and releasing as though trying to steady herself.

Her eyes flick between us, softening slightly when they meet mine.

“I haven’t seen Orin in a long time,” she says, setting the glass down. Her hand hovers near the stem for a moment before she folds her fingers in her lap. “Dare I say he’s gotten worse.”

Malachi pulls out a chair, sitting down across from her. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, the tension in his posture betraying his frustration. “Orin’s always been the same. You’ve been lucky to avoid him until now.”

Irina lets out a sharp breath, leaning back in her chair. “Lucky,” she mutters, shaking her head. She turns to me, her expression softening. “Are you sure you’re alright, Katja? He can be...”

I sit straighter, adjusting Malachi’s coat as if it could shield me from the memory of Orin’s presence. “I’m fine. Thank you though. I’m sorry he showed up here. You didn’t deserve that.”

Irina waves, brushing the apology away, though her fingers tremble slightly as she picks up her glass again. “It’s not your fault. Orin has a knack for making himself unwelcome.”

Malachi leans forward, his elbows braced on the table. His jaw tightens, his knuckles brushing the wood as he speaks. “He won’t be back anytime soon. I made that clear.”

Irina tilts her head but doesn’t press for details. Instead, she looks to the hallway as though expecting to see Orin’s shadow creeping back through the door.

“Good,” she says after a pause. Her hands curl around the glass, steady now. “The less I see of him, the better. You two should rest. You both look exhausted.”

I think it’s more of an excuse because she wants to be alone, and I respect that.

Malachi nods, and we both stand to leave, but something pulls me back. I glance over my shoulder at Irina, her face pale and drawn. “Jamie said he’s sorry,” I tell her. “He said he regrets his actions and that all is well, now and forever.”

She inhales sharply, her hand trembling as it covers her mouth.

Her eyes glisten, and she blinks rapidly, as if trying to keep herself from unraveling.

Not wanting to intrude any further, I turn away, letting her have the moment to herself.

Malachi doesn’t say a word as he gently guides me toward the door.

The chill outside hits hard, and I shiver despite the thick coat draped around me. Malachi takes one look at my bare legs and shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he lifts me effortlessly into his arms.

Once inside, he sets me down gently and moves to the fireplace, kneeling to build a fire. I kick off my boots and shed the coat, watching him work as the familiar crackle of flames fills the space.

“How long was I out this time?” I ask, pacing near the fire, the heat warming my chilled skin.

He glances up at me, tossing another log into the flames before standing and dusting his hands off. “Almost three days.”

“Fuck.” I sink into the couch, running a hand through my hair. “Anything happen while I was out?”

Malachi leans against the mantel, arms crossed, his expression tight. “Apparently Orin showed up, which you already know. If I had any idea he would show up, I wouldn’t have left you at all. Viktor’s getting restless. And my father called—twice.”

“Twice?” I arch a brow, already dreading whatever that means. “What did he want?”

Malachi shrugs, his discomfort showing. “Probably to remind us that the clock is ticking and to make sure you’re not slacking. He was vague, as usual, but I don’t think he liked the idea of you being out of commission for this long.”

I sigh, resting my head back against the couch. “Great.”

Malachi moves closer, sitting next to me on the couch. “Kat,” he says softly. “We’ll figure this out, but you need to take it easy. Whatever Bash did to amplify your power, I don’t think we should try it again.”

“We have other things to think about right now. First, tell me everything you know about your uncle and Irina,” I say, shifting to rest against Malachi’s chest. “What happened there? Because I know something bad went down.”

He nods slowly, his arm tightening around me as he plays with a strand of my hair. “I don’t know everything,” he begins, “but I know Irina loved Jamie. He was quite a bit older than her, and she fell for him hard. It was only after she’d fallen that she started to see him for what he really was.”

I don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, but my stomach starts to knot at the implication.

“He ran one of the largest underground trafficking rings to ever exist,” Malachi finally says, his tone grim. “He was the one who got my father and uncle into it.”

I jolt upright, disbelief washing over me. “What? Seriously?”

He nods, his fingers pausing in my hair. “Yeah. They were already into trading stolen goods and drugs, but I don’t think they started acquiring Avids until Uncle Jamie came along and showed them the way.”

The thought makes my blood freeze. The tangled web of evil runs deeper than I imagined.

“Irina loved him,” Malachi continues, “but once she started to uncover the full picture of what he was doing...she killed him.”

I sit up fully, turning to face him. Pieces start falling into place—the tension in Irina’s demeanor, the forgiveness Jamie begged me to pass on. “What did Marco and Viktor do about it?” I ask.

Malachi shrugs. This is taxing on him, but I need to know more. “I was young, so I don’t know all the details, but they love their little sister. I think they looked the other way. She played it off as an accident on the ranch, but I’m sure they knew better.”

I swallow hard, imagining the guilt and isolation Irina must have endured. “Love makes you do crazy things, I guess,” I murmur. “But even though he was clearly a terrible person, my heart hurts for her. She loved him, and she was still able to...do what she had to do.”

I’m unable to fathom making that kind of choice. I’ve pictured killing Marco and Orin more times than I can count, but to kill someone I love? To live with that weight?

Malachi watches me, his hand sliding up to rest on my shoulder.

“She doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t blame her,” he says, “but she’s stronger than people realize.

She did what had to be done, and after that she started the Syndicate and now Solace.

I think she’s been trying to undo all of his bad deeds and the guilt that haunts her. ”

“Knowing all of this makes what Jamie’s spirit told me even more peculiar,” I say, shifting to face Malachi fully. His brow arches in curiosity, waiting for me to elaborate. “He said, ‘The truth you need to survive what’s coming can be found where the wolves prowl.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

He leans back slightly, the firelight casting sharp shadows over his face. “No,” he admits, “but there’s a reason the Volkov family crest is a wolf. Volkov means ‘wolf’ in Russian. Marco and Viktor have been referred to as wolves for years—predators who always hunt in packs.”

I blink. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“It’s not,” Malachi says, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

He rubs his hand over his jaw, lost in thought.

“If Jamie was trying to warn you, it might mean there’s something tied to the family.

A place, maybe. Somewhere Marco and Viktor conduct business or keep their secrets.

Wherever ‘where the wolves prowl’ is, it’s connected to them.

And you said Jamie told Irina he was sorry and forgave her. ”

I lean closer, a chill creeping up my spine despite the heat of the fire. “Yes…but why would Jamie want to help me? He was the one who brought them into this in the first place.”

Malachi’s eyes narrow, his focus shifting to the flames. “Maybe he’s trying to atone,” he says distantly.

I start to wonder what would make a person change like that, when suddenly Malachi is off the couch, pulling his boots on with quick, deliberate movements.

“Get dressed. I’ll be right back.”

“What are you doing? Where are we going?” I ask, scrambling to my feet.

“I’m going to ask my aunt about what Jamie said. Get ready, and I’ll bring the truck around. We need to go back to the Depths.”

He’s out the door, the cold air rushing in behind him.

I rush to the bedroom and grab a pair of black pants and a long-sleeve shirt, quickly pulling them on before reaching for my jacket. I see Carmen’s journal on the bed and shove it into my jacket pocket, zipping it up.

My hands move quickly as I lace up my boots, my heart racing in anticipation. By the time I tug my ponytail tight and check my reflection in the small mirror by the door, I hear the low rumble of the truck pulling up outside.

That was fast.

Grabbing my gloves, I throw them on as I head out into the biting cold, the truck’s headlights cutting through the night. Malachi is already in the driver’s seat, his hand drumming impatiently on the wheel. He looks over as I climb into the cab, his expression unreadable.

“What did Irina say? Does she know what Jamie meant?” I ask as Malachi floors it down the driveway, the tires kicking up snow behind us.

“She does,” he says tersely, “and you’re not going to like the answer.”