Page 28

CHAPTER 28

Raven

I should not be here.

That’s the first thing running through my head as I sit in the dimly lit, smoke-scented room with five of the most powerful men in The Pantheon.

It’s not some fancy elite meeting room with oak tables and leather chairs, like I always imagined the inner workings of a secret society would be. No, this is a sleek, modern penthouse suite—Nate's place—where the furniture is expensive but comfortable, the whiskey flows freely, and the air vibrates with testosterone and unspoken rules I don’t fully understand. But at least this place doesn't scream "dark vibes" like Malakai's apartment.

I shift in my seat, fingers twitching in my lap. Nate's hosting because Malakai told him to. Nothing happens without his approval, of course. Jameson's here, which makes sense, but the other three? They’re not regulars in Malakai’s usual circle.

I don’t know their names yet, but I recognize one from the team and another from a frat that’s got deep ties with the Pantheon, as Malakai explained. The last guy, tall and built like a goddamn military tank, sits with his arms crossed, assessing me in a way that makes my skin prickle.

I clear my throat, trying to look as unfazed as possible. The last thing I need is to seem weak. Malakai made it clear before we walked in that I had a right to be here.

But right now? I don’t feel like I do.

Then, across the room, Malakai shifts, stretching his arm over the back of the couch like he owns the entire goddamn universe. His eyes flick to mine, and just like that, my anxiety levels drop.

His fingers tap against the leather in an easy rhythm—casual, like he’s telling me to relax. When I don’t immediately let go of the death grip I have on my thigh, he raises a single brow, the corner of his mouth twitching in something dangerously close to amusement.

I press my lips together, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

Why the hell has my fake boyfriend been acting so… reassuring lately?

Malakai isn’t the kind of guy who comforts people. He doesn’t do gentle. He barely does patience. But lately, it’s been different. And it's not just about sex, either. The teasing glances, the subtle smirks, the little ways he grounds me when I’m spiraling? That’s not just about keeping up appearances.

And I hate that I like it.

Actually—no. Screw that. I don’t hate it.

I just don’t know what the hell to do with it.

I exhale slowly and shift my attention back to the room as Malakai leans forward, his playful expression wiped clean.

“Alright,” he says, voice steady but sharp enough to slice through the air. “We all know why we’re here.”

Nate nods, arms folded. Jameson looks the most at ease, casually swirling the whiskey in his glass, but his eyes stay locked on Malakai. The other three? They just watch, waiting.

Malakai exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. His usual arrogance is still there, but there’s something else now. Something raw.

“I need you all to know exactly why Alex Callahan is a dead man walking,” he says, voice steady. “And why his father is going down with him.”

A slow, dangerous silence falls over the room.

I swallow hard, my stomach twisting, because Malakai is about to reveal the truth behind his vendetta with Alex. I know how outraged he can be when he talks about it, but the others don't. How will they react to this absolute grenade of a news?

He glances at me once, like he’s checking to see if I’m ready. I nod, shooting him a look that's hopefully equally comforting as his had been when he tried to calm me down a few moments back. Then he straightens, rolling his shoulders back.

“Alex Callahan Sr. is my father.”

Okay, that's it—the grenade drops.

Jameson is the first to react. His eyebrows shoot up, and he lets out a low whistle. Nate looks like someone just smacked him upside the head, and one of the other guys—Frat Boy, I’m calling him—sits forward, finally looking intrigued.

The Tank doesn’t react much, just exhales slowly, like maybe he already suspected something.

It’s Nate who finally breaks the silence. “ What the fuck? ”

Malakai smirks, but there’s no real humor in it. “Yeah. Surprise.”

“That piece of shit is your dad?” Jameson shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “Holy fuck.”

Frat Boy narrows his eyes. “Wait—so he knew ? Like, he knew you were his kid this whole time?”

“Oh yeah.” Malakai’s voice is smooth, almost casual, but I can see the tension in his jaw. “Knew, ignored, paid me off, and then made sure I never got anywhere near his perfect little son. That’s why I had to get close another way.”

He doesn’t have to say what way.

Everyone in this room already knows.

The tension is suffocating, and I barely breathe as I watch Malakai unravel something he’s probably been holding onto for years.

Jameson exhales. “That explains so much.”

The Tank speaks for the first time, voice low and even. “So what’s the plan?”

Malakai leans back, exhaling sharply. “We ruin them.”

“Both of them?”

Malakai’s gaze sharpens. “ Especially Callahan Sr.”

Frat Boy huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Man, I knew that guy was dirty, but I didn’t realize he was that kind of dirty.”

Jameson takes a slow sip of his drink. “He’s definitely got some skeletons in the closet.”

That’s when one of the guys I don’t know very well—Liam, I think—leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

He clears his throat, glancing between us. “Actually…” He hesitates, his eyes flickering to Malakai. “I might have something on him.”

Malakai’s whole body tenses. “What?”

Liam licks his lips, shifting. “I overheard something a while back. One of my cousins is an intern at the Callahan church, and she mentioned some… weird shit.”

The room goes still.

Liam exhales. “Rumors. About Callahan Sr. grooming young girls.”

A slow, vicious silence creeps in.

Malakai doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

For a second, he looks almost too still.

Then, like a storm breaking, his entire body locks up.

“You’re sure ?” His voice is dangerously low.

Liam nods. “It’s not just one or two rumors. A couple girls left town out of nowhere. Some families were paid off. My cousin doesn’t know the details, but she said something’s off in that church.”

Malakai’s fingers flex. His jaw clenches so hard I can hear his teeth grind.

I reach out before I even think, my fingers brushing his knee. He flinches, like he forgot I was here, then his gaze snaps to mine.

His eyes are dark. Furious.

I tighten my grip.

“We’ll find out more,” I murmur.

Malakai exhales sharply, nodding once.

The rest of the guys don’t say a word. But one by one, they nod, understanding exactly what this means.

We’re not just taking down Alex anymore.

We’re taking down an empire.

And Callahan Sr. won’t see it coming.

Malakai scowls at the entrance to the campus flower garden like it personally insulted him.

“This is a terrible idea,” he mutters, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “What part of me screams flowers to you?”

I grin, tugging him forward by the sleeve before he can turn around and bail. “The part that pretends he doesn’t have a soul but actually does.”

He scoffs but doesn’t resist as I lead him onto the winding stone pathway that snakes through the garden. Late afternoon sunlight filters through the treetops, casting golden patterns over rows of bright tulips, azaleas, and rose bushes. It smells like spring, fresh and floral, and nothing like the smoke and whiskey that usually clings to Malakai.

I love it here. Always have.

He looks absolutely miserable.

“This place is disgusting ,” he grumbles, nudging a stray petal off the path with the toe of his sneaker. “Everything smells like potpourri. And there’s too much pink .”

“Oh my god, Malakai,” I mock-gasp, gripping my chest. “You’re allergic to soft things. I should’ve known.”

He rolls his eyes, but I catch the way his lips twitch. “I just don’t see the point of standing around a bunch of plants.”

I cross my arms, cocking my head. “Maybe I just wanted to take you somewhere peaceful. You ever think of that?”

His expression softens—just a little—but then he smirks. “You wanna see me in a field of flowers?” He leans down slightly, voice low. “That your new fantasy, princess?”

Heat creeps up my neck. “Jesus, relax. I just thought it’d be fun to show you a different side of campus. Maybe give you an ounce of culture.”

He snorts. “ Culture ?”

I gesture around us. “Yeah. Beauty, nature, peace. All the things you obviously hate .”

He glances around at the flowers, unimpressed. “It’s fine , I guess.”

“You guess ?” I gasp dramatically. “This place is magical. ”

He deadpans, “It’s dirt and plants. ”

I shake my head, sighing. “God, you are so emotionally constipated.”

His laughter rumbles low in his chest, and I hate that it sends a shiver down my spine. I also hate that I kind of love that he’s here, standing in the middle of a flower garden looking completely out of place and still managing to own the space like he built it himself.

I roll my eyes, pushing past my thoughts, and plop down on a stone bench under an ivy-covered trellis. “Fine. Let’s talk business then, since you hate fun.”

Malakai leans against the trellis, arms crossed, looking at me expectantly. “Go on.”

I tilt my head, watching him. “We need more dirt on Alex’s father. Liam’s info was useful, but if we want to completely destroy him, we need something concrete .”

Malakai nods, his gaze darkening. “You got something in mind?”

I smirk. “I actually do.”

His brows raise slightly. “Oh?”

I lean back against the bench, stretching my arms. “I have a friend—well, had a friend—back at the church. We haven’t talked much in a while, but I reached out, told her I was just checking in.” I pause, watching his expression shift. “She was hesitant at first. Scared. But I could tell she knew something. And the more we talked, the more she started slipping up.”

Malakai’s gaze sharpens. “What did she say?”

I press my lips together, feeling my stomach twist. “She admitted that there’s definitely something going on with Callahan Sr. A lot of girls left the church suddenly. The ones who stayed? They don’t talk much anymore. Like… they’re scared.”

Malakai exhales slowly, his fingers flexing at his sides. “Fucking bastard.”

I nod. “She didn’t confirm anything yet, but I could tell she wanted to. She just needs a push.”

Malakai’s eyes narrow. “We need to make sure she’s safe first. If she’s scared, that means there’s more happening behind the scenes.”

His concern catches me off guard. I don’t know why. Maybe because he usually acts like nothing touches him. But there’s something raw in his voice, like this isn’t just about revenge anymore. It’s personal .

I swallow, dropping my gaze. “We’ll handle it carefully. I’ll talk to her again, get more information. And when we have enough… we burn it all down.”

Malakai doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, quietly, he asks, “You ever think about what your life would’ve been like if you never left that church?”

I look up at him, surprised.

His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—something serious.

I exhale, shaking my head. “I don’t like to.”

He tilts his head, waiting.

I swallow hard. “That place controlled my entire life. Controlled me. I used to believe every single thing they taught me, used to think my whole world revolved around their approval.” I pause, voice lowering. “And then I saw what was really going on. The hypocrisy. The manipulation.”

Malakai watches me closely, silent.

“I was so dependent on it,” I murmur. “On their money, their promises, their rules.” I shake my head, scoffing. “And now? Now I finally don’t need them. I don’t owe them anything.”

Something flickers across his face. Approval? Understanding? I’m not sure.

Then, before I can process it, he does something that makes my breath catch.

He reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

It’s so small. Barely even a gesture. But it lingers. His fingers brush my skin, warm and steady, and my entire body locks up.

I don’t know why I don’t pull away.

Maybe because I don’t want to.

His gaze stays on mine, intense and unreadable. For a second, I swear he’s about to say something, something real, but then?—

The switch flips.

Malakai suddenly leans back, exhaling loudly, stretching his arms like he’s just gotten bored .

“Well, that’s all the time I can spend with my fake girlfriend,” he drawls, smirking.

The moment shatters .

I blink, scowling. “You’re such a dick .”

He grins, like he lives for my irritation. “You love it.”

I roll my eyes, standing up. “I swear to God , Malakai?—”

But I don’t finish my sentence. Because I don’t actually have a comeback.

And the worst part? He knows it .

His smirk widens, and I hate that I’m staring at his lips.

I shove past him with an annoyed huff. “C’mon, lover boy. We’ve got an empire to burn.”

Malakai laughs, falling into step beside me.

A part of my brain is already berating me for this, but it seems like, after ages without a real sense of belonging, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.