Page 77 of Malachi (Outsiders MC #1)

Candace

The warehouse feels different now. The air feels split at the seams, releasing everything it’s been holding back.

Grief, memory, sorrow, uncoils into the room in slow tendrils of smoke from a long-smothered fire.

The tension’s still there, anchored in the corners and in the way Malachi keeps glancing between Amelia and Felix, but it’s softer now. Raw, not sharp. Healing, maybe.

The floor creaks beneath our feet, exhaling, the old bones of this place settling beneath the weight of everything that just happened.

The smell of oil and sweat still clings to the walls, but beneath it, there’s something newer, faint lavender, maybe.

Clean, unfamiliar. The warehouse is learning how to breathe again.

I stay close to Malachi, letting my hand brush his when it feels the weight might pull him under again.

His skin is warm, callused, his knuckles still split from a fight he won’t talk about.

He hasn’t said much since Felix hugged him, but his shoulders are straighter now.

Still tense, but not crumbling. When I steal a look at his face, I can see it the flicker of peace trying to take root beneath the storm.

Felix clears his throat, looking between all of us. “I’m not going back,” he murmurs.

Malachi tenses beside me. “Felix—”

“I can’t. Not yet.” Felix’s voice is calm but resolute. “This… this is the only place I’ve ever had any control. I built something here, Kai. I’m not done building it.”

A flicker of heat pulses in Malachi’s jaw. He doesn’t argue, but I can see the war behind his eyes. The same inner war that rages every time someone chooses a path of blood and grit over the future he believes they’ve earned.

Phoenix steps forward, silent but solid. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to. The way Felix looks at him, shoulders squared, chin lifted, it’s clear. He’s found someone he respects. Maybe even someone who’s given him purpose when the rest of the world just tried to forget he existed.

“I’m good at what I do,” Felix adds. “I know the fighters, I know the stakes, and I know how to keep people alive in this world. That matters to me. More than going back to a name I don’t recognize anymore.”

Malachi nods slowly, jaw tight. “You’re not just a name. You’re my brother.”

Felix’s gaze softens. “That’s why I know you’ll get it.”

It’s quiet for a beat. Just the sound of the warehouse creaking around us and the far-off hum of voices echoing through the halls. I shift slightly closer to Malachi, my shoulder brushing his, grounding him and maybe me too.

Then Amelia speaks. “I want to go home.” Everyone turns toward her.

She’s been silent since the hug, arms wrapped tight across her stomach, holding herself together by sheer will. But her voice is steady now, her eyes clear. There’s a stillness in her, the kind that comes after surviving something that should’ve broken you.

“I want to see Maggie,” she says. “And James. I want to sleep in a bed that doesn’t smell like bleach and fear. I want to breathe without looking over my shoulder.” Her gaze flicks to Malachi. “I want my big brother to walk me home.”

Malachi’s breath stutters, and I swear something in my chest folds in on itself. His fingers twitch near mine, not tightening, not pulling away just there, trembling at the edge of contact he doesn’t trust himself to make.

“I’ll take you,” he whispers.

Phoenix glances at her just once, just enough to check for hesitation, but when he sees none, he nods. Quiet approval. Silent goodbye.

“No one will stop you,” Phoenix says. “We’ll get you out clean. She’s under my protection until she’s under yours.”

It hits me then how different these two siblings are.

Jared, no, Felix, chose fire and shadows and war. Amelia is choosing light. Family. A life she barely remembers but still reaches for with the instinct of something embedded in her bones.

And both choices are brave.

Malachi takes a step closer to his sister, gently cupping the back of her head as he leans in. “You sure?”

Amelia nods, eyes shining. “I’m sure.”

The way his shoulders ease just slightly wrecks me. Her answer unlocks a breath he’s been holding for years. He’s carried her absence as a wound that refused to close, and now, maybe, the bleeding is finally slowing.

I stay quiet, watching the pieces fall into place. Watching a family come back together in ways that don’t erase the damage but honor it. Their scars don’t match, but they still belong to each other.

When Malachi reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine without looking, I squeeze back. Not just for him. But for all of us.

Because somehow, in the middle of this broken place built on survival, violence, and secrets, we found something real. And that’s worth holding on to.

The ride back is quiet at first. Not tense. Not awkward. Just... quiet.

The kind of silence that comes after something big breaks open and you’re still trying to breathe around the pieces.

I sit in the back of the sleek black town car beside Amelia, watching the glow of Savannah’s streetlights slide across her face.

Her head rests against the window, eyes half-lidded, body folded in the posture of someone who’s been holding tension for too long and doesn’t quite know how to let go.

Phoenix arranged the car. No explanation, no conversation, just a quiet word to someone outside that locked room, and five minutes later, a driver was waiting.

Malachi had already swung a leg over his bike, jaw tight, eyes darker than the night sky.

He said he needed the air. I didn’t argue.

He needed space, needed time to process.

Maybe, deep down, I needed this too. Just me and her.

I watch her from the corner of my eye. She’s beautiful, but there’s a weariness in her that feels older than her body. She carries the weight of too many lives lived inside too little time.

“You okay?” I ask softly.

She turns to me, her lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. “I think so. Are you?”

I let out a breath. “I don’t know.”

Another pause stretches between us, this one thicker, heavier.

“I didn’t think he was alive,” she says after a moment. “Kai. I thought when Cornelius died, he did too.” Her voice is barely a whisper, the truth still unsettled on her tongue.

“I’m glad you were wrong,” I murmur.

“Me too.”

Outside, the streets start to blur. The city’s charm feels different now, less haunted, more hollow. It’s as if the secrets have drained out of it, or maybe we’re just too tired to chase them anymore.

I glance at her again. “Can I ask you something?” She nods. “That night... the night you were taken. There was a woman involved, right?”

Amelia stiffens slightly, then nods again. “Yeah. She was in charge. Donovan gave the orders, but she was the one who carried the real threat. Always just behind them. Watching. Calculating. I don’t even know her name.”

“You said she had blonde hair and cold eyes?”

Amelia’s brows knit together, pulling through fog. “Yeah, she scared me more than Donovan. Her voice was cold. Sharp. She would’ve sliced you open without blinking.” She shudders, wrapping her arms around herself. “I hated her more than the men. They were animals. But she was... precise.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

That pull in my gut tightens. The one that started the moment I saw him. Phoenix. His face, his voice. The way something about him felt familiar. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I will.

Amelia leans back into the seat, eyes fluttering shut. “Phoenix saved me. That’s what matters. Whatever that woman was, whatever she wanted, he got me out.”

I nod, even though she can’t see it. Phoenix.

I don’t know what he is to me yet. But I know what he isn’t, he isn’t a villain. There’s something in him I recognize in the deepest part of myself, something unspoken and raw. He may live in shadows, but I don’t think he’s made of them.

We pull up to the Airbnb, then the driver comes around to open our door. I help Amelia out, keeping a gentle hand on her back.

Malachi is already on the porch, arms crossed, waiting like a sentinel in the dark. The porch light flickers above him, casting shadows across his face that make him look carved from something ancient. A statue left behind by a war that never really ended.

I glance at Amelia before we step inside. “You’re safe now.”

She meets my gaze. “I know.”

But as I follow her up the steps, I can’t shake the feeling that this story, the one that started long before I ever met Malachi, is far from over.

And whatever thread is pulling me toward Phoenix? It’s only just begun to unravel.