Page 19

CHAPTER 19

Malakai

There's so much smoke here. Nate almost comments that his eyes are burning, but he doesn't. Tough shit. Saying something like that will show he's ready to leave our society, stat.

Thinking of the repercussions of proving weakness, I smirk and take in the scent of burning sage and candle wax curling into the corners of the abandoned building. The place is falling apart—cracked walls, rotting floorboards, old furniture shoved into the shadows like forgotten relics.

But it’s ours.

Our sanctuary. Our place for offerings and oaths, for power and blood.

I drag my fingers over the worn surface of the altar, my touch lingering for just a second too long.

Because I remember.

I remember Raven’s body pressed against this very wood, her soft, gasping breaths mixing with the ancient smells of this place, her fingers digging into my back...

I remember the way she looked at me, half-defiant, half-surrendering.

The way she let herself fall apart for me.

For a fraction of a second—too quick, too fleeting—something softens inside me.

I fucking hate it.

I shove the thought aside immediately, exhaling sharply.

This place wasn’t always ours.

The previous owners—the secret society that came before us—built their legacy here. They marked these walls with their own oaths, their own blood sacrifices.

We took it from them.

Claimed it.

Just like I’m going to take everything from Alex Callahan.

I tighten my grip on the knife in my palm, the sharp edge biting into my skin, bringing me back to the now.

Nate and Jameson stand with me, watching as I drag the blade across my palm, letting the deep red drip into the bowl beneath.

The first offering. The first mark of a new beginning.

I press my bleeding palm into the worn wooden altar, smearing crimson against the carved symbols.

A new path.

A new step toward taking what’s mine.

Jameson lets out a slow exhale. "You gonna tell us what the hell we’re doing, or are we just performing blood magic for the vibes?"

I smirk, wiping my hand on the rag beside me. "Little bit of both."

Nate’s voice is steady, unreadable. "You really think this changes things?"

I glance at him. "I know it does."

He holds my gaze, not pushing, not challenging. Just watching.

Jameson, on the other hand, scoffs. "I mean, look, I’m all for rituals and power plays, but your boy Alex? He’s already fucked , man. Why are we still going so hard on him?"

The room goes still.

Something darkens inside me.

That familiar rage rising to the surface.

Is Alex Callahan already fucked?

Not enough.

Not nearly fucking enough.

I exhale sharply, flexing my fingers, rolling the tension out of my shoulders. "Because he doesn’t get to walk away clean."

Jameson chuckles, shaking his head. "Jesus, man. You’ve wrecked his life. Took his girl. Took his shot at the Pantheon. Took his fucking pride."

"And?" I say, my voice cold.

Nate finally speaks, his words slow, deliberate. "Why do you hate him this much , Malakai?"

I know they’ve wondered.

They’ve both wondered.

Because yeah, I fuck with people. I ruin people. But this? This is different. This is personal.

And the worst part?

They don’t even know the half of it.

I grit my teeth, letting the fire simmer just beneath the surface. "That’s not your business."

Nate studies me. Jameson shakes his head again, muttering under his breath.

But they don’t push.

And they won’t get an answer.

Not yet.

Because I don’t just want Alex to suffer.

I want him to break.

And Raven?

She’s just another part of the game.

Another piece in my long, drawn-out revenge.

Only—

I clench my jaw, shoving down the thought before it can form.

I grab the bowl of blood and tilt it over the fire, watching as the flames consume it, devouring the offering.

This is a new beginning.

For me.

For Raven.

For what comes next.

And Alex?

He has no fucking idea what’s coming for him.

The flames lick at the edges of the bowl, swallowing the last traces of blood, but my mind is elsewhere.

Raven.

She’s in my fucking head. I let Nate and Jameson go check out some pressing matters regarding the Pantheon, something I'd never have done if my mind wasn't so messed up.

I run my tongue over my teeth and flex my fingers, forcing myself to push past it. She’s just another piece. A tool. Another way to gut Alex Callahan from the inside out.

That’s all she is.

That’s all she should be.

So why the fuck did I just think about the way she felt beneath me in this very room?

I exhale sharply, shaking my head and reaching into my back pocket for my phone. Tapping the screen somewhat furiously, I pull up Instagram, and search her name before I can stop myself.

Raven Calloway.

Her profile pops up immediately, and the first thing that hits me is how fucking childish it is. Not like I haven't seen it earlier. As everyone knows, I always do my research. But this feels like I'm looking at her from a different perspective now. But why the fuck?

Her bio?

Coffee addict. Dog person. Loves books more than people.

I snort, shaking my head.

Of course she’s one of those girls. The ones who probably own way too many scented candles and take pictures of their fucking matcha lattes like it’s a personality trait.

Her profile picture is just as predictable—her standing in front of some bookstore, smiling like the world hasn’t ruined her yet.

I scroll down, amusement curling through me as I take in her old-ass posts.

A blurry selfie with her friends, all grinning like idiots. The caption? 99% of my problems can be solved with coffee and a good book.

I actually laugh out loud at that.

This girl is so fucking soft. So na?ve .

Does she even realize what the hell she’s gotten herself into?

I keep scrolling, past pictures of late-night study sessions, sunsets, and a ridiculous amount of dog videos.

But then?—

I notice something.

The posts… stop.

The last real picture she uploaded was months ago. The last story she posted was weeks ago.

And that’s when it hits me.

She hasn’t been posting much at all lately.

For a girl who clearly used to document every basic-ass moment of her life, the sudden drop-off is noticeable.

I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over her page.

Something about it rubs me the wrong way.

At first, I tell myself it’s just because I’m trying to figure her out.

But then?—

Then I realize what’s actually pissing me off.

There’s nothing about Alex here.

I mean, yeah, he’s in a few old pictures—some group shots, a couple of them sitting together, a post with a generic “my bestest boyfriend, my favorite human” caption from over a year ago.

But that’s it.

Nothing too romantic. Nothing that screams that they were in love.

Nothing that tells me she was ever really his.

Was she?

Because if she actually cared about him, if she actually saw him as more than a safe option, then why wasn’t she showing him off?

Why did her life look like it barely included him at all?

The possibility grows more and more certain that maybe his father's money was, after all, the whole thing that made her be with him.

A strange, twisting rage coils in my chest.

Because if she never really loved him, if she was just playing along?—

Then what the fuck was the point of it all?

What was the point of my plan?

Of course, hurting Alex has been the main motto, but if Raven didn't mean anything to him anyway, is this really going to hurt him all that?

I grip the phone tighter, my pulse beating in my skull.

I already took her. Took his last claim to power, to status, to the life he thought he was entitled to.

But now, staring at this pathetic little profile, I wonder if I really took anything at all. Or if Alex was just clinging to something that was never his to begin with.

The thought makes my rage boil over.

Because I know Alex.

I know how he works.

He doesn’t love people. He owns them. He controls them.

And Raven?

She was his little follower, his good girl, the one who would always choose him.

Until she didn’t.

Until I took her away.

I lock my phone, shoving it into my pocket, jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache.

I should be satisfied.

I should be fucking thrilled that I finally tore her away from him.

So why the fuck does it feel like this isn’t enough?

Why the fuck does it feel like there’s more to unravel here? What's worse , creeps another thought into my head, shocking me, did I do this because Raven was fucking with my mind? Had she always been the goal, more so than ruining Alex?

Shit. Of course, that's all bullshit. Malakai Vega doesn't do things without an ulterior motive. I roll my shoulders, exhaling sharply, pushing off the altar.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter.

Because she’s mine now.

And Alex?

He’s going to choke on the loss.