Page 76 of Malachi (Outsiders MC #1)

Malachi

She steps forward, afraid I’ll vanish if she blinks. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. The air thickens around me. Smoke, old engine oil, the faint iron tang of blood that only I seem to notice, a warning my body recognizes as a reckoning.

Her hair is longer now, darker too. Her frame leaner.

But the eyes, they’re the same. Wide and full of a thousand memories I’ve tried to bury.

The same eyes that used to peek through cracked doorways, watching me train in the garage.

That used to well with tears when our father staggered through the house in a drunken rage, smashing whatever he could grab.

The same damn eyes I’ve only ever seen in memories, because by the time I got to the warehouse the night Cornelius died, she was already gone.

The man steps forward, extending his hand. “I’m Phoenix.” He glances at Amelia. “I had to check and make sure she wanted to see you.”

His voice is steady, but there’s a protective edge to it. A subtle claim, not overbearing, but clear. He’s not asking permission. He’s guarding her.

I nod once, trying to mask the emotion coiling low in my chest. I appreciate it, the way he’s looking out for her. Hell, part of me’s grateful. But another part—deeper, older—bristles at the fact that someone else got to be that person for her when I couldn’t.

It’s not fair. It’s not his fault. But it still lands with the impact of a bruise I didn’t see coming.

“Amelia,” I whisper, a word fragile enough to shatter in my mouth. My throat tightens. Her name tastes like ash and hope; something holy that I don’t deserve to speak out loud.

She stops short, tears already swimming in her lashes. Her lips part, voice barely a breath. “You’re not dead.”

I almost laugh. Almost. But it would come out cracked and wrong.

“I thought you were killed that night,” she says, shaking her head. “They said you didn’t make it.”

“Who said?” I manage, the words burning, acid-etched in my throat.

“The people who took us.” Her hands tremble at her sides. “They intercepted the plan. Donovan… and this woman. Tall. Blonde. Cold eyes. She said something about keeping me ‘fresh.’”

Alice. My gut twists, nausea curling in my stomach in coils of rusted wire. Cold sweat prickles at the base of my spine.

Off to the side, Phoenix goes still. Her description cracks something open in him.

His posture stiffens just enough to notice, his jaw tightening with pressure held barely in check.

But he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t ask. Just watches her with an intensity that cuts deep.

A familiarity buried in silence. A recognition lived rather than explained.

Whatever it is, he masks it quickly. But not before I see it.

“They killed Cornelius,” I say, more to myself than her.

Her jaw trembles. “They shot him before we could even run. He told us to hide. That he’d stall them. But they knew. They knew where we’d be.”

I nod once, slow and pained. “Because Donovan was watching us.”

Her eyes fill. “You were supposed to come after us. But… they said you died. That there was no one left.”

“I tried.” My voice breaks on it. I don’t bother to hide it. “I got there too late. Cornelius was already dead. And you… you were just gone. Both of you.”

Her breath hitches. “You didn’t stop looking, did you?”

I shake my head. “Not for a single damn day.”

She closes the distance then. Launches into my chest, unable to hold herself back anymore. And I catch her. My arms wrap tight around her frame, and for the first time in years, I feel something inside me breathe.

She’s real. Her weight against me is solid and trembling. Her hair smells like clove and dust and something sweet I can’t name. Something from home. My chest caves around the weight of her sobs. The sound of her grief against my ribs is enough to unmake me.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she sobs into my shirt.

I hold the back of her head, bury my face in her hair, and let my knees go weak. “I was scared you were gone, Amelia. That I’d never find you. I thought I failed you.”

“You didn’t,” she whispers. “You didn’t.”

We stay that way. Two frayed threads trying to stitch back what was torn. Something softer. Something stolen.

Eventually, she pulls back just enough to look at me, and there’s fire behind her tears now. She turns slightly and lifts her chin toward Phoenix. Everything about him is controlled. Posture relaxed but not loose, someone who’s learned how to hold power without flashing it.

His arms hang at his sides, hands loose, but there’s tension in the set of his shoulders. In the way he’s watching me. Not hostile. Not warm, either. Just… measured. Cataloging the moment for later.

“Phoenix is the one who helped me,” Amelia says, voice softer now, full of something that sounds of quiet awe and weight.

Phoenix inclines his head toward me—not a nod, not quite—but an acknowledgment. Silent. Heavy. His gaze doesn’t waver from mine.

Candace stiffens beside me. I feel the jolt ripple through her before I even look at her.

When I do, her face is pale, eyes wide, locked on Phoenix the way someone stares at a puzzle they can’t solve.

There’s no recognition in her expression, just…

a pull. An ache she doesn’t understand. Her hand twitches, nearly reaching out, but stops short.

Amelia doesn’t notice. She steps between us slightly, her hand still wrapped around mine.

“This is my brother,” she says, eyes shining now. “Malachi. But I’ve called him Kai since I was little. He’s—” Her voice cracks. “He’s alive.”

Phoenix doesn’t react outwardly. But I see it. The way his breath catches almost imperceptibly. The flicker of something in his jaw. Relief. Or maybe something darker.

“Phoenix,” I say slowly, testing the name. “You saved her?”

He gives a single nod. “I did what needed to be done.”

Candace doesn’t look away. Not from him. For a second, neither do I. Because I don’t know who this man is yet. But I’m starting to understand how dangerous he might be to everyone but her.

Amelia swallows hard, the words she’s holding back tasting of blood.

“There’s more,” she says. “About how Phoenix found me.”

My chest tightens. I nod for her to go on, even though I’m not sure I’m ready for it.

“He didn’t know who I was at first,” she says quietly. “But someone else did. A boy. One of his fighters.” I freeze. She looks up at me, eyes swimming. “He goes by Felix now. But that’s not his name.” Her voice trembles. “It’s Jared.”

The name punches through me, a sledgehammer to the sternum. My throat locks. I see him, flashes of bare feet on dusty floors, a gap-toothed grin, the way he used to tug on my sleeve, believing I could fix anything.

“He started fighting in Phoenix’s circuit.

I have no idea long he’s been doing it, but he’s good.

Scary good. Phoenix noticed. Asked questions.

Jared told him everything. About me, you, about the night everything went to hell.

Phoenix helped him get clean too. It nearly broke him. But Phoenix pulled him back.”

I try to speak, but there’s nothing but the sound of my pulse crashing through my ears. Then I hear it. Footsteps. Soft. Sure.

I turn toward the sound as Phoenix steps toward the adjacent doorway, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t speak. Not yet. Just meets my gaze with something heavy and knowing.

“I’ll get him,” Phoenix says quietly, almost an afterthought, like this isn’t the earth shifting under my feet. “He’s in the back. Was helping break down the ring.”

Helping. Working. He’s here.

A breath escapes me. Half a laugh, half a sob. I brace my hand against the wall. My pulse is a war drum in my chest. Every piece of me pulling toward the next room, gravity inverted.

Jared. Felix. Alive.

“I need to see him,” I whisper.

Phoenix nods once and turns toward the back hallway. He slips out of the room, smoke in human form, and the silence he leaves behind is thick enough to choke on.

Amelia stands across from me, close but not close enough.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, but it’s not defensiveness, it’s containment.

If she lets go, the years will spill out all at once.

There’s a scar near her collarbone I don’t remember, and something haunted in her eyes that wasn’t there the last time I saw her. Before everything went to hell.

And still, she’s her. My baby sister. Alive. I’m barely breathing.

Candace hasn’t said a word beside me. She’s been steady this whole damn time—through the fight, through Phoenix’s reveal—but I can feel the tension thrumming off her, a wire pulled tight. She’s not scared. She’s ready. For whatever this is. For whoever this is.

Her fingers still tap faintly against her thigh in a quiet rhythm. I curl my hand around hers, grounding myself.

“I should’ve done this earlier,” I say, voice low, thick with everything I haven’t processed. “Amelia… this is Candace.”

Amelia turns to her. Her face softens, but her eyes sharpen, taking Candace in with the focus of someone solving a puzzle halfway through.

There’s something unspoken that passes between them, something I’m not sure how to explain, but I feel it in the shift of Candace’s shoulders. Not fear. Not uncertainty. Respect.

“She’s the reason I made it here,” I tell Amelia. “I’d be buried under it all if it weren’t for her.”

Candace shoots me a look, the kind that says I’m overselling it. I’m not.

Amelia smiles faintly and steps closer. “You’ve got good taste, Kai.”

Candace snorts under her breath, but I feel her fingers tighten in mine.

“I can see it,” Amelia goes on, nodding as though confirming something to herself. “You look at her like you’d set the world on fire if it ever laid a hand on her.”

I glance at Candace. “I would.” She gives me a quiet, almost-shy smile, one that still knocks the air from my lungs.

“Thanks for taking care of him,” Amelia says, shifting her attention back to her. “He always needed someone to balance out all that brooding alpha energy.”

Candace grins. “I try to remind him he’s not invincible. Doesn’t always work.”

“No,” Amelia murmurs, eyes soft. “But it’s the trying that matters.”

She looks back at me, and for the first time since I saw her, there’s no fear in her face. Just… light. The kind that says she’s starting to believe this isn’t a dream. That she’s seeing her brother clearly and realizing we both made it out of the fire.

For the first time in years, I feel something new blooming in my chest. Hope. Footsteps echo down the hall before the door eases open again.

Phoenix steps through first. His expression is calm, but there’s something sharp beneath it. Behind him… The kid.

Tall. Lean. Black hair tousled just enough to be deliberate.

He’s got that James Dean thing going on, strung out on quiet intensity with a look that says he could vanish into shadow and no one would notice until it was too late.

But what grabs me isn’t the attitude. It’s his eyes.

Wide, wary. Scanning the room, taking in every exit.

He’s not a kid anymore. He’s Felix now. But I know him. I knew him when he was Jared. I knew him when he was just a scared boy clinging to Cornelius’ hand, still smelling of crayons and fear. He was supposed to be safe. His gaze snags on me. His whole body goes still.

“Kai?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

I swallow hard. “Yeah,” I rasp. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The papers in his hand drop to the floor. He doesn’t run to me. Doesn’t speak again. Just stands there, stunned by the sight of me, his foundation splintering—new name, new life, this job, this place—cracking beneath him.

Phoenix watches him carefully, then steps aside, giving him space.

Felix doesn’t move toward me, not yet. But I see it. His fingers twitch with the urge to close the distance. His jaw tightens. Then… he does the one thing that wrecks me. He blinks fast. He’s trying not to cry.

Candace steps closer to me, a silent support. Amelia’s eyes shine too, but she doesn’t speak. She just crosses her arms, holds her breath in a stillness so complete it threatens to shatter.

“You changed your name,” I finally say, my voice rougher than I mean it to be.

“Didn’t want them to find me,” Felix says. “Didn’t want them to find her.”

My gaze shifts to Amelia, then back to him. “You saved her?”

He nods, slowly. “I started fighting here. Just trying to survive. I didn’t know Phoenix ran this place at first. But when I found out who he was and what he could do…” His throat bobs. “I asked him to help me find her.” My heart beats so loud I can barely hear the rest. “And he did.”

Phoenix steps forward then. Not intruding. Just… present. “Your brother never stopped fighting for her,” he says. “He risked everything. Every contact. Every resource. He didn’t give a damn what it cost.”

Felix swallows hard and finally, finally , takes a step closer to me. “You were supposed to come back,” he says. “Cornelius said we’d be safe. He said you’d find us.”

“I tried.” My voice cracks. “But I got there too late. I didn’t know where they took you. I didn’t know if you were safe… or being hurt. But I never stopped looking.”

Felix lunges forward and grabs me in a hard, sudden hug. It’s not graceful. Not clean. It’s all elbows and pain and years of silence breaking open similar to a dam bursting. I hold on. For the boy he was. For the man he became. And for the family we thought we lost.

His chest shudders against mine. Mine isn’t much steadier. For a minute, we just breathe, clinging to each other with desperation that says the world might fall apart again if we let go.

Amelia edges closer. Candace doesn’t speak, but her hand drifts toward mine again. Tentative, warm, steady. I take it without looking, without speaking. Just anchor to her, too.

The four of us, scarred and shaken, but still standing, fill the room with something I haven’t felt in years. Hope. Raw and jagged and new.