Page 8 of We Were Meant to Burn (Ashes and Ruin Saga #1)

Lian didn’t share when he’d be outing me to the rest of the group. But I knew it was just a matter of time. By the time everyone wound down for the night, I was on pins and needles, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When he didn’t call everyone to gather around and instead retired to his bedroll, I understood that he intended to wait until Malakai woke. I didn’t understand his reasoning, but I guess I wasn’t much of a threat in my current state anyway, so I hunkered down in my bedroll and tried to get some sleep.

But sleep wasn’t easy to come by, and by the time I opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling in frustration, it had to be a few hours past midnight. Beyond the cave entrance, Endrina Jungle had come alive with the kind of sounds that made prey animals freeze in place and reevaluate their life choices. Snarling, screeching, the occasional wet crunch—it was a damn horror show out there.

I rolled onto my side, staring at the uneven wall of the cave, willing my body to get the message and sleep already. But it was no use. My mind had other plans.

Lian tossed in his bedroll, his face drawn tight, fists half-raised like he was ready to fight off whatever demons haunted his dreams. Dom, meanwhile, was dead to the world, lying on his back with his mouth wide open and a soft snore filling the cave.

I shifted again, my stiff muscles protesting the movement. The thin bedroll beneath me wasn’t exactly luxurious, but compared to the metal cot I’d been rotting on for the past six months? It was paradise. I’d been given a wool sarape even. So my issue wasn’t the sleeping conditions keeping me awake.

It was everything else.

Lian muttered something unintelligible and turned again, his sarape slipping off his shoulders.

Without thinking, I reached over and pulled it back up, tucking it in place. A small thing, a pointless thing, but maybe some part of me still believed in balancing the scales. He’d helped me earlier. This was me paying him back.

Satisfied with that tiny sliver of fairness, I pushed up to my feet, biting back a groan as stiff limbs and half-healed wounds screamed their displeasure. Keeping my steps light, I slipped toward the mouth of the cave, stopping just shy of stepping into the night.

The jungle stretched out before me, a restless sea of shadows. Trees swayed, their hulking silhouettes shifting like living things waiting for a chance to devour anything foolish enough to stray too far. My stomach tightened.

I’d heard the stories about Endrina Jungle. Everyone had. Some of them, I knew for a fact, were true.

Dom had led us straight into this cursed place without a second thought. Not that I was surprised. He was either confident that Malakai’s presence was enough to keep the monsters at bay—or he was stupid. I was still deciding which.

One thing was certain, though. There were worse things in Endrina than the creatures lurking in the dark.

And I was stuck between them.

Malakai stirred, a rustling sound breaking through the heavy silence of the cave. I turned, watching as he tried to push himself up. The dying fire cast flickering shadows over his too-pale face, making him look even more like something half-dead crawling out of a grave.

I stalked toward him, arms crossed, mouth drawn into a hard line.

"Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?”

I muttered.

He waved a hand like I’d just suggested he nap through a war.

"Pshaw. This is nothing.”

I had a list of words for that—stupid, reckless, suicidal—Mother’s voice whispering them like a mantra in the back of my head. But I swallowed them down. I wasn’t her. I wasn’t going to tear him apart just because I could.

Malakai tilted his head, eyes narrowing with that too-sharp intensity—like a falcon deciding whether I was worth the effort of a kill. The Hada instincts were always there, just beneath the skin.

“You seem upset,”

he said, all mock innocence.

"Say whatever it is you want to say.”

My nostrils flared. Fine. He wanted it? He’d get it.

"What you did was reckless,”

I snapped.

"Your magic stunt nearly got you killed. And for what? So you could play the tragic hero and get us out in the flashiest, most self-sacrificial way possible?”

He exhaled through his nose, slow and steady—like I was the unreasonable one.

"I’d do it again,”

he said, not flinching.

"If it meant saving my crew? Every time.”

I frowned.

"You’d die for them?”

His violet eyes locked onto mine. Cold. Certain.

“Without hesitation.”

Something twisted deep inside me. Raw. Unfamiliar. Without hesitation. Not because someone ordered him to. Not because there was glory in it. Because they mattered to him.

“They’re not Bruja,”

I murmured, mostly to myself.

Malakai scoffed, sharp and bitter.

"I don’t have to ask what you would’ve done.”

I didn’t respond. Because I didn’t know.

Lian’s hands in my hair, carefully undoing the tangles. Dom carrying Malakai despite how that must have exhausted him. Elías pretending to flirt with me just to make Lian jealous.

I wasn’t used to this. Not the way they all moved around each other like . . . like they mattered. Like they weren’t just weapons waiting to be sharpened, discarded when dull.

I swallowed, dragging a hand down the length of my braid, feeling the tight weave Lian had carefully worked into it.

"I’m sorry. I—”

My throat tightened around the words.

"I’m not used to—”

Malakai let out a low chuckle, the sound rolling through the cave like a jaguar’s purr—amused, but predatory.

“Not used to what?”

he asked, his violet eyes burning into me like he could strip the answer straight from my bones.

I clenched my teeth and exhaled sharply through my nose. Not used to people giving a damn. Not used to men throwing themselves into the fire for anyone but themselves. Not used to anything outside the cold, ruthless lessons Mother had hammered into me.

Instead of saying any of that, I looked away, focused on the dim embers of the fire.

“Nothing,”

I muttered.

Malakai didn’t buy it. His gaze stayed fixed on me, sharp as a blade against my skin.

“You were raised to think power is the only thing worth bleeding for,”

he said, voice quiet but sure.

"That people without magic are disposable.”

He tilted his head, considering me like a puzzle he was just starting to figure out.

"Tell me, how’s that philosophy working out for you?”

My fingers curled into my palms, nails biting into skin. He’s trying to get under your skin. And the worst part? It was working.

I forced myself to meet his eyes, to keep my voice even.

"Power is the only thing that matters,”

I said.

"Without it, you’re nothing.”

His smirk was sharp, humorless.

"You can tell yourself whatever you want,”

Malakai continued, voice dropping lower, rougher.

"But I’ve seen enough to know people don’t fight for power. They fight for each other. And that’s a hell of a lot stronger than any magic.”

Beyond the cave entrance, something big and pissed off growled. The crunch of dirt and gravel shifting under massive paws sent a cold spike of adrenaline down my spine. I wished for a weapon—any weapon—but my eyes flicked to the dagger sheathed at Malakai’s hip. Too far. Too slow. Not that it would’ve done much against whatever the hell was lurking out there.

Malakai’s head snapped up, his entire body tensing like a spring about to snap. His upper lip curled, exposing fangs that hadn’t been there a second ago. His eyes flashed, catching the dim firelight, and a low, guttural snarl rumbled from his chest. A warning. A threat.

A chill skittered across my skin.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one unnerved by it. Whatever was out there whined and backed off, the sound of its retreating steps fading into the jungle. Smart.

I unclenched my fists, exhaling slowly. The tension in my shoulders didn’t ease because my mind kept circling back to his words, clashing against everything I’d ever been taught.

They fight for each other.

“Why?”

I asked before I could stop myself.

The rest of the question lodged in my throat like broken glass. Why are you so loyal to them? It didn’t make sense. People weren’t selfless. People used you until you had nothing left. Mother had made sure I understood that. My worth began and ended with my magic, and when that was gone, so was my purpose.

“Bruja or not, every life has value,”

Malakai said, quiet but firm.

The words hit something deep, something raw. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to punch him or laugh in his face. Every life has value. Right. That’s what people told themselves so they could sleep at night.

I swallowed against the tightness in my chest. “Thanks,”

I muttered, the word feeling foreign in my mouth.

"For getting me out of there.”

What I didn’t say—what I couldn’t say—was how close I’d been to breaking. That another week, maybe two, and I would’ve caved. Maybe even said yes. The thought made my stomach twist. I’d like to think I would’ve held out, but hope had a funny way of unraveling when you were locked in the dark for too long.

Malakai exhaled sharply, like gratitude made his skin itch.

“You’re welcome,”

he muttered.

His gaze flicked over me, his mouth twitching—like he was forcing himself to be civil and immediately regretting it.

“I see you’ve . . . washed up. You look . . . clean.”

I arched a brow.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking down my frame before quickly darting back up.

“And your hair looks . . . nice,”

he added, like the words physically pained him.

"I see Elías dressed you. That pink thing is. . . a nice touch.”

My eyes narrowed.

"You sound like you’re choking on your own tongue.”

He huffed.

"I don’t do compliments.”

I smirked.

"No kidding.”

I watched him for a beat longer than I should have. He wasn’t flirting—not exactly. And it wasn’t teasing, either. Not the way he usually did it. It felt . . . real. Like the words had scraped their way out of his throat and left splinters behind.

I didn’t know what unsettled me more—that he meant it, or that a small, stupid part of me wanted him to.

So I did what I always did.

I rolled my eyes and looked away.

"Try harder next time.”

The corner of his mouth curved in a lopsided smirk before he quickly tucked it away.

"Your wish is my command, doll.”

And just like that, the menace had slipped back into his cocky arrogance that could only come from an immortal life.

“You’re Hada, aren’t you?”

I asked, not because I didn’t know, but because I wanted to hear him say it.

Malakai bit his lower lip, like he was chewing on the right words. Eventually, he settled on the obvious. “I am.”

“How old, then?”

I dragged my eyes over his face, trying to place him. He didn’t look a day past his mid to late twenties, but that didn’t mean anything. The Hada were an immortal race. They could live for millennia, watching humans rise and fall like waves on the shore.

He chuckled.

"What do you think?”

I studied him again. The sharp edges, the unnatural beauty—it was all a mask. A lovely, lethal disguise wrapped around something much older and far more dangerous.

"Were you alive during the Rebellion?”

The Firebird Rebellion. The moment everything between Aguatitlan and Rojas cracked apart for good. Four centuries ago, when a band of slaves in Rojas rose up, fought their way to freedom, and fled the continent. The former slaves created their own kingdom, and to twist the knife deeper, Aguatitlan had taken the rebellion’s symbol—the phoenix—and made it their royal emblem. Their proud little insult to Rojas’s matriarchy, their way of saying we won.

That war had never really ended. And Aguatitlan had only gotten worse. They hunted Bruja now, tested on them like animals in their desperate obsession with magic. A violation of everything Las Madres had gifted us.

No wonder they’d abandoned this forsaken land long ago.

Malakai scoffed.

"I’m not that old.”

He shifted, stretching his legs out like this whole conversation bored him.

"Three hundred and twenty-two this year.”

Young for his kind. Ancient for mine.

He smirked. “And you?”

“Twenty-five,”

I said, meeting his gaze like I could force him to back off through sheer willpower.

Malakai’s jaw tensed.

"So young. Yet so angry. So full of hate.”

My nostrils flared.

"You know nothing about me.”

I shoved the words out before the inferno in my chest had a chance to rise.

Like this Hada had any idea what I’d been through. What I’d endured at Mother’s hand. How it had broken me, piece by piece, until obedience was the only thing keeping me in one piece. How I’d followed orders without question because better them than me.

His brows lifted, unimpressed.

"Don’t I? You think Bruja are the only lives that matter, don’t you? That’s why you questioned me about my crew.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, my skin prickling with heat.

"What’s your plan now that you have me?”

Malakai didn’t so much as blink.

"I already told you. Take you to Tiepaz.”

“And you’re not going to restrain me?”

He coughed, eyes widening like I’d suggested something obscene.

"You’re not a prisoner.”

“But you won’t let me leave on my own.”

I wasn’t asking.

Malakai looked away, dusting dirt from his pants with a little too much focus. “No.”

“So I am a prisoner,”

I said, flat and sharp.

His violet eyes narrowed, and his lip curled.

"When was the last time your guards let you wash?”

The pit in my stomach twisted. The dungeon. The filth. The reek of rotting bodies, sweat, and worse.

"Once a week, if that,”

I muttered, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be.

“And meals?”

he pressed, eyes drilling into me.

"Pork and roasted beef every night?”

I crossed my arms. “No.”

“Did they clothe you? Brush your hair? Give you a warm place to sleep at night?”

He gestured toward my fresh braid, the blanket, the bedroll.

My jaw clenched. “No.”

“Some prison,”

Malakai said, drenched in sarcasm.

I sneered, turning my face away so he wouldn’t see the heat creeping up my cheeks.

"You’ve made your point.”

That didn’t change what this was. That didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t here by choice. He could wrap it up in a warm meal and clean clothes all he wanted. I was still his captive.

Malakai popped a spearmint leaf into his mouth, like this was just another conversation to pass the time.

"How long were you rotting in that dungeon, anyway?”

So that’s how he wanted to play this. Like he didn’t already know. Like he didn’t know exactly who I was. Lian suspected. And so did I.

“Six months,”

I said, letting the weight of it hang between us.

The Battle of Yoatl. Mother’s failed coup against the Aguatitlan king. The night everything went to hell. Aguatitlan had been ripe for the taking—infested with adamas, sure, but full of non-Bruja. Plenty of bodies to drag back across the sea and fill Mother’s slave markets.

My stomach churned. I could still smell those places. The hovels packed with unwashed bodies. The hollow, vacant stares of the people inside. The stench of spirits too broken to fight back.

Six months in a dungeon, and I still believed I had it easy by comparison.

Malakai clicked his tongue, casual as ever.

"That’s a shame. Did they torture you?”

I sat up straighter, shoulders squared like that could keep the truth from slicing into me. “Yes.”

He hissed under his breath, shaking his head like it actually meant something to him. Like he gave a damn.

I curled my hands into fists, nails digging into my palms. It helped. A little.

I wasn’t about to unravel in front of him—some Hada mercenary who was getting paid to drag me across the continent. He didn’t deserve the pieces of me I’d had to claw back.

“Surprised you care,”

I muttered, eyes narrowing.

Malakai shrugged, like it was nothing.

"We’re going to be traveling together for a while. Figured I should know what I’m dealing with.”

I snorted.

"You know exactly who you’re dealing with.”

My voice came out colder than I intended. Sharper. But I didn’t take it back.

Something flickered in his eyes—quick, heavy. A shadow slipping behind the glass. I saw it. And I wasn’t about to let it pass. I leaned in, lowering my voice to a whisper meant to wound.

“You lied earlier.”

He didn’t flinch, but his jaw ticked.

"I don’t care that you lied to me,”

I said.

"I expect that. What I don’t understand is why you’d lie to them.”

I tilted my head.

"You know how dangerous I am.”

His gaze drifted—just once—toward the others, still curled in sleep.

"You certainly live up to your namesake, Nightshade,”

he said, voice low. But there was no amusement now. Just something brittle and sharp. He flung the title like a blade. And it landed, right where he aimed.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It pressed. Between us, the air stretched tight, wound like a bowstring drawn to its limit. My pulse drummed in my ears, too loud in the quiet.

He didn’t look away. Neither did I. The fire cast flickering shadows across his face, dancing in the planes of his jaw, the hollow beneath his cheekbone. His expression was unreadable—save for the glint in his violet eyes. Wariness. And something else I couldn’t name.

I hated that I wanted to know what it was. I hated that the heat beneath my skin wasn’t from anger alone.

“I’m not your problem,”

I said finally, voice clipped, but softer than I meant it to be.

Malakai’s jaw flexed.

"I think that’s exactly what you are.”

He didn’t say it like an accusation. He said it like a truth he was trying hard not to feel.

“But I don’t have to be. We can end this right here.”

Malakai dragged a hand through his silver-streaked hair, like I was giving him a headache.

"I told you before, you’re going to Tiepaz whether you like it or not. And, though I was willing to rescue you—regardless of who you are—the rest of my crew might not take the news too kindly. For your sake, it’s best if we keep this between us.”

A slow smirk curled on my lips.

"It’s a little late for that. Lian knows.”

Malakai muttered something under his breath that I was pretty sure wasn’t complimentary.

"Of course he does.”

I leaned back against the cave wall, arms crossed.

"Why’d you take the job, anyway? And don’t say it was for the tenos. A person with your skill set, and your crew, could have their pick of jobs. So why this one?”

“Some things are worth more than money.”

He shrugged those broad shoulders, the picture of indifference.

"And you’re worth more to me alive than dead. Unless you threaten my crew.”

“How flattering.”

The words tasted like acid on my tongue.

So that was it. He was just like Mother. Only interested in what I could do for him. What I could be used for.

My nails dug into my arm, and I forced my voice to stay even.

"I can’t make any promises,”

I admitted after a long pause, eyes flicking toward where the others slept.

"Because I can’t just turn it off.”

“Turn what off?”

He angled his head, curiosity in the sharp line of his features.

“This.”

I gestured to myself, the empty space between us. “Me.”

The confession sat bitter in my mouth.

"I—I don’t know if it’s instincts, my training. Maybe it’s something else entirely. But all I know is that I can’t stop myself from doing it. From calculating. Weighing. Preparing.”

Malakai didn’t move, but something in his posture shifted. Muscles rippling just beneath his shirt, like he was bracing for an attack.

“For example,”

I said, inhaling through my nose, my gaze sweeping over him.

"You favor mint. Spearmint, to be exact. You keep some in your left pocket.”

His eyes flickered down, barely a twitch, but I caught it.

"You have a slight limp when you walk, probably an old injury that didn’t heal right. You’re ambidextrous; you hold your sword with your right hand but shoot a bow with your left,”

I added, nodding toward the archer’s glove he still wore.

Malakai’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite amusement, wasn’t quite annoyance.

"Well, aren’t you observant.”

I met his gaze head-on.

"No. I’m deadly.”

I didn’t say that I was everything Mother had trained me to be. I didn’t have to.

His smirk faded. But not from fear. He studied me for a beat longer, then let out a breath—long, slow, laced with something heavier than exhaustion.

“Yeah. You are,”

he said.

"But don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re the only deadly thing in this group.”

The words weren’t a threat. Just fact. He motioned toward my bedroll—a clear dismissal.

“Get some rest. We’ve got a long way ahead of us.”

My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. That was all I was to him. Cargo. Property. My warning be damned.

I watched him for another second, debating whether I had another argument in me, but exhaustion was catching up, my body dragging me down like an anchor.

With one last glare, I shoved to my feet and stalked back to my bedroll, wrapping the wool sarape tight around me. Maybe Malakai was enough protection for his crew. Maybe he was just arrogant enough to think he could keep them safe. Or maybe his recklessness would get them all killed.

That thought shouldn’t have bothered me. But it did.

I sent a prayer to Las Madres, to give me strength, to give me sleep, to help me ditch these mercenaries and their infuriating leader as soon as possible. But my prayers for a peaceful sleep went unanswered, and I doubted they’d bother to answer the rest of my prayer if they couldn’t deign to grant the first.