Page 48 of Malachi (Outsiders MC #1)

Malachi

I don’t even wait for the engine to cool.

Kill it mid-growl and swing off the bike, betrayal thick in the motion.The ride over only feeds the fire, doesn’t calm it, and my fists are still clenched.

The message of peace never received. My boots hit the steps hard enough to rattle them, echoing through the silence in rhythms that pound war into the air.

I need the noise. Need the impact. Anything to keep from spiraling.

The wind is useless. The afternoon air, too still. I need something to hit. Something that’ll hit back. Instead, I have Victor. And the weight of a name I can’t stop tasting, blood bitter on my tongue.

My knuckles throb with restraint that turns control into confinement. I don’t bother knocking twice. Just one sharp pound of my fist against the door, a sentence delivered by a judge who is already furious.

Victor opens it almost immediately looking composed, unreadable. He’s always calm, always steady. And I hate how much I need that right now. His presence doesn’t settle me. It spotlights the storm inside me. The contrast burns.

“What’s going on?” he asks, voice low, door swinging wide. The scent of cigar smoke clings to the entryway, mixing with something warmer—aged wood and bourbon. It would be comforting if I wasn’t ready to destroy something.

I don’t wait. Don’t ask. Just push past him, the storm in my chest moving on instinct. The fury isn’t patient. It has teeth and a damn clock.

“You know who Alice Brighton is?” I snap, words slicing the air, sharp as broken glass.

He pauses, brow furrowing. “No. Should I?”

I pace. Can’t stop. Can’t breathe unless I move. My body is a lit fuse and standing still would make me explode. I run a hand over my jaw, try to force air into lungs that don’t want to work. Rage tastes metallic on my tongue.

Candace’s bruises flash behind my eyes. The way her voice shook when she said they were going to sell her. It burns through me, fire in my veins.

“She’s in bed with Donovan.” The words hiss out venom-shaped. “Not literally, but hell, maybe even that.” That part twists in my gut, a sick, rotting knot that won’t come undone.

“She’s helping him take the girls. Off the streets.

They’re not just disappearing. They’re being sold.

” I stop, meet his eyes, needing him to feel it.

Needing someone else to carry this weight for a minute.

“Underground auctions. It’s some high-society game.

They’re protected. Hidden. And she’s feeding it. ”

Victor doesn’t speak right away. Doesn’t blink. The stillness in him shifts. Something sharpens behind his eyes. He lowers into the chair across from me, silent in that way that doesn’t soothe. It cuts.

His silence is surgical. And I bleed under it.

“At an auction?” he says finally, his voice cold.

I nod once. “Yeah. Black-tie bullshit masking slavery. I just found out.”

That’s when it hits me. Hard. I drop down on the edge of his couch, the floor beneath me giving way without warning. Elbows braced on my knees, hands dragging down my face. I’m shaking and trying not to. My voice cracks when I say, “One of ours helped them.”

That silence comes again. The kind that only lives between men who know what happens next. He doesn’t ask if I’m sure. He doesn’t have to.

“Who?” Victor asks.

I shake my head, don’t lift it. “You don’t need that name.” The echo of it still rings in my ears anyway. Chuck. The same bastard who tucked her in as a baby. The same one who would’ve traded her for cash.

“You handled it,” he says. Not a question. A truth.

“Yeah.”

He scoffs under his breath. “Then you didn’t just find out.”

I finally look up, meet his gaze. “I found out. Then I did what needed doing. Then I came here.” The memory of Candace’s blood on my shirt the night her bastard of a father tried to sell her, her head tucked under my chin, anchors me, grounding me with a weight I can’t shake.

I came here because the world has tipped sideways, and I need to make sure we’re not already free falling.

Victor’s eyes darken. “Donovan doesn’t let go once he wants something. I’ve seen it up close.” His voice doesn’t rise, but something behind it cracks. “He had Olivia for years. Before I found her.”

A tremor passes through his jaw. The kind you only get from watching someone you love rot in the hands of a man who thinks power is ownership. That tells me more than I need. And not enough.

Victor goes on, softer now. “I help because I remember what it means to stand in a room and wonder if anyone’s coming.”

The words hit harder than the walls I want to punch. Because I know that truth too. He nods slowly, already reading it in my silence. Already respecting it.

“I’ll talk to Arden,” he says. “If this thing’s buried that deep? He’s the only one who can pull it out without setting off alarms.”

A chill slides down my spine. Arden doesn’t deal in favors. He deals in debts. But if Donovan is involved, we’re already in hell.

I stand, needing to move again, and wipe my palms on my jeans, though they’re bone-dry. “People talk about Arden the way you talk about a vampire,” I mutter. “I’ve seen him in mirrors.”

Victor lets out a dry laugh. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t confirm. Just watches me head toward the door.

“There’s someone I need to check on,” I say, hand gripping the knob. “Back at the clubhouse.”

“You could’ve called,” he says.

I glance over my shoulder. “I needed the ride.”

Needed the wind. The noise. Something to scream louder than the memory of her voice breaking when she said he tried to sell me .

He gives me a nod. One that holds more weight than words.

“See you later,” he says. “You’re not done, are you?”

I pause, jaw clenched. Meet his eyes with a storm in mine. “No,” I say. “I’m just getting started.”

The weight of Candace’s lyric notebook flashes in my mind—tucked safely beside her guitar. That music is her voice. Her weapon. Her exit strategy.

Now she has me.

I don’t answer anything else. Just step back into the daylight, hoping it can burn off the stain of everything I’ve just confessed. My jaw is locked tight, heart thudding in time with the engine that no longer rumbles beneath me. But my mind is already pulling in another direction.

Candace.

She was still asleep when I left. I tell myself that’s for the best. But now? Now I need to see her more than I’m ready to admit.

Because last night, she didn't run. Because last night, she chose me. And tomorrow, if this world tries to take her again, it’ll have to go through hell to get her.

Victor had to know the truth. He has someone to protect, too.

But Donovan? Donovan has everything to do with my missing family. And if I’m going to dig them out of the grave he tried to bury them in, I’ll have to start turning over bodies.

I’m not done yet. Not until Candace is safe. Until Cornelius’ blood is answered for. Not until my brother and sister are found. Not until every man who ever called a girl a transaction learns what it means to burn.