Page 87 of Shameless Royalty

I leave the office, my mind spinning with a hundred possibilities of what the fuck that was about. But right now, none of it matters.

Right now, I need to see my boy.

I make my way up the stairs, my heart kicking up a notch as I near Malachi’s room. I’ve been gone too fucking long. I haven’t heard his voice in days, haven’t seen that fire in his blue eyes, haven’t had him scowl at me like I’m the most infuriating man on the planet.

I roll my shoulders back as I unlock and push open the door, already grinning, ready for him to give me shit, but then I stop.

Malachi is curled up on the bed, facing the wall with his back to me. His glasses aren’t on his nightstand, and from what I can glimpse, I don’t see them on his face, either.

I frown, stepping inside and locking the door behind me. “What, no welcome back?”

Nothing.

I raise an eyebrow, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “M’sure you’ve been dyin’ for me to get back and annoy the fuck out of you.”

No fucking response.Something’s wrong.

My smirk falters slightly, my fingers twitching as I reach out, pressing them lightly against his side. “Oi, Babyface, you gonna keep ignorin’ me or—”

He whimpers and ice spreads through my veins as I pull my hand back like I’ve just been burned. My stomach churns and I exhale slowly, steadying myself before speaking. “Malachi.”

He doesn’t move, but I see the way his shoulders pull in tighter. The way his fingers curl into the sheets. The way he waits.

Like he’s bracing himself.

Rage simmers beneath my skin, a low, slow burn that spreads through every inch of me, settling deep in my chest. I don’t evenrealize I’m holding my breath until he finally moves, slowly, turning just enough to face me.

And my heart fucking drops.

There’s bruising along his jaw, his cheekbone is swollen, and there’s a cut just beneath his eye. His lower lip is split, dried blood crusting at the corner of his mouth. His hair falls into his eyes, messy and tangled like he hasn’t bothered fixing it, and when he meets my gaze, something in his expression kills me.

Not defiance.

Not attitude.

Just… exhaustion.

Like he’s too fucking tired to pretend.

I don’t even realize I’ve reached for him until my fingers are brushing his jaw, tilting his face up so I can see. “Who the fuck did this to you?”

Malachi exhales shakily, blinking up at me. His expression is filled with pain, but I see the way his fingers curl into the sheets and the way his eyes flit away from me.

Someone touched him.

Someone put their fucking hands on what’s mine.

Malachi watches me, his throat bobbing as he swallows. His lips part slightly, but no words come out, leaving only silence stretching between us, heavy and suffocating.

I reach out again, my fingers barely grazing his chin, tilting his face just enough to get a better look at the damage. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t pull away.

I clench my jaw so hard it aches, my fingers tightening slightly before I exhale, my voice quiet but lethal. “Who?”

Malachi flinches. I don’t mean to sound so fucking dangerous, don’t mean to let that raw, murderous edge creep into my tone, but I can’t fucking help it. His lips press together, his gaze flicking away, and the fact that he won’t answer only confirms what I already fucking know.

My father’s voice echoes in my head, calm, measured.We’ve got a lot to discuss soon.

White-hot rage pulses through me, winding tight around my ribs and pressing against my lungs. I breathe through it because, if I don’t, I might rip this entire fucking house apart.

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