Chapter 22

MALAKAI

I tapped my boot against the metal bar leg. The sound was low but steady, a rhythm I didn’t even try to stop. My drink sat untouched in front of me. The glass caught the dim light, the liquid inside still, not a drop gone.

It had been more than an hour. I kept glancing at the door, my jaw tight. Ravenna wasn’t here.

I started to wonder if she would show up at all.

"Maybe she had decided to stay away. Or maybe she had gone to Marek and told him everything." I grounded out as my stomach tightened at that thought. I pictured Marek’s face, his cold stare, the way he would know before I even acted out.

I shifted in my seat, my fingers tapping the table now. The air in the bar was thick with smoke, voices blending into the low music playing somewhere in the corner. At the stage were girls stripping and men shouting and throwing cash at the guys wildly.

I glanced back at the door expecting her to walk in. "I don't like to keep waiting. I never liked waiting."

I reached for my glass, not to drink, but to have something in my hand. I was just about to stand and leave when the door opened.

And she walked in.

"Ohh thanks goodness." I muttered letting out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding.

Ravenna's eyes found me instantly. Without a moment of hesitation, she started walking straight toward me, her steps smooth, her face unreadable until she was close enough for me to see the faint shadow under her eyes.

She slid into the seat across from me and let out a slow breath.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice low. “I had to deal with my mother.”

I haven't spoken yet. I studied her face. There was truth in her eyes, but there was something else too —something that made me keep my guard up.

She could be lying for all I care. She could be sent here by Marek as his watch dog.

She went on before I could say anything. “I told you the last time, right? My mother hasn't been myself since Amara went missing. It’s like she vanished into thin air. And… I think Marek is watching me after our last fallout. More of like following me, maybe. I had to stall before coming here, just in case.”

I leaned back slightly, my eyes never leaving her. “You think he suspects you?”

She gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. We had a bitter argument where I'd accused him of wanting Amara. And I've not said anything to him since then. But I’m not going to take risks. I made sure I wasn’t followed here.”

I nodded slowly. “It’s fine.”

I waved over the bartender. “Two drinks,” I said, then turned back to her.

When the drinks came, I pushed one toward her. She wrapped her fingers around it, the glass almost disappearing in her hands.

Her eyes flicked around the room once before coming back to me. “We need to strike now,” she said, her voice dropping lower. “Marek has fallen apart over losing Amara. He’s distracted, he’s… not himself. This is the moment.”

I tilted my head, watching her closely. She leaned forward slightly, close enough that I could feel the warmth from her skin. Her fingers brushed mine on the table, light, intentional.

“Can I trust you?” I asked. My tone was even, but inside I was measuring her every word, every move.

“You can,” she said without hesitation.

“Why?” I pressed.

Her lips curved faintly, but there was no joy in it. “Because Marek hurt me. He took something from me. He thought he could use me and then throw me aside like I was nothing. I’m not going to forgive that. The only way to make him pay is to team up with you. I thought about it after our best conversation and decided it's the best course of action.”

I searched her eyes. There was heat there, a deep anger that looked real. But I had seen people fake that before.

“And what do you want out of this?” I asked.

“His fall,” she said. “I want to see him on his knees. I want to see him lose everything he built. I want to watch him break.”

I let her words settle between us. The noise of the bar seemed to fade for a moment.

Her hand stayed close to mine, almost touching. “You’ve been waiting for a chance,” she said. “This is it. Tomorrow, during the meeting, strike hard and disrupt everything. Trust me, he won’t see it coming.”

She said it like she could already see it happening.

Something in me stirred. My jealousy of Marek had been growing for a long time. Not just because of what he had, but because of how people looked at him. The power he carried like it was his by birthright. I wanted that. I wanted to take it.

Yeah, I was ranking second richest and most powerful mafia in the country but hell if I want that... If I wanted my sworn enemy on the number one seat. And I've always found ways to push him off that seat but the more I tried, the harder it became.

It was like pushing a rock with your bare hands knowing fully well it won't move it bulge.

And now here she was, putting the idea into words, pushing it toward me like a gift just when I was about to give up.

“Tomorrow?” I repeated.

“Yes,” she said. “We make a move then. It'll be one clean strike but not final because we're going to come at him so hard he won't see it coming.”

I leaned in closer. “And you’ll help me?”

Her eyes didn’t move from mine. “Every step.”

My mind began to turn, piecing together the steps, imagining how it would look. Her presence made the thought sharper, more alive.

The jealousy burned hotter. I thought of Marek with Amara, with others, with everything I wanted. I thought of him playing down on me like I would never be more than a shadow.

Maybe it was time to change that.

I smiled slowly. “It’s a good idea.”

Her lips twitched like she wanted to smile back but stopped herself.

We talked in low voices after that, our heads closed. She told me little things she knew about his schedule, about who would be with him tomorrow, about where the guards would stand. I listened, asked questions, and let her feed the fire in my chest.

By the time we stood to leave, my decision was made.

The air outside was cooler, sharper. The street was quiet, the distant hum of the city behind us. The bar was fine and empty and it was just the both of us.

I walked beside her. “Come spend the night with me,” I said, my voice casual but heavy with meaning.

She looked at me, her expression unreadable for a second. Then she shook her head. “I can’t. I need to be close to my mother tonight. She’s… not well.”

I studied her face for a moment longer. “Tomorrow then,” I said.

“Tomorrow,” she agreed.

We parted at the corner. She walked away without looking back. I watched her go, the image of her leaning toward me at the bar still fresh in my mind.

Tomorrow, Marek wouldn’t see it coming.