Page 90 of Shameless Royalty

The second I see the damage, I nearly lose it.

His torso is a mess of bruises, deep and angry, spreading across his ribs in violent shades of blue and purple. There’s a cut along his side, not deep, but it’s jagged, like someone wanted to hurt him, not just mark him. His skin is mottled with the evidence of what he’s been through, and my chest fucking aches with the effort it takes to keep myself together.

Malachi watches me closely, probably waiting for the inevitable explosion, waiting for me to rip through this house and tear my father apart.

I can’t.

Not yet.

Not until I understand everything.

I exhale sharply through my nose, my hands shaking as I reach out, gently tracing my fingers over a particularly dark bruise. Malachi tenses but doesn’t pull away.

“What happened?” My voice is controlled, but just barely.

Malachi’s throat bobs as he swallows, his breath shaky. “I woke up to a fist being slammed into my face. I couldn’t see who it was, but there were two of them; one who held my arms behind my back, and one who beat me.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, inhaling deeply.I will not lose my fucking mind right now.I stroke my thumb over his ribs, grounding myself, grounding him. “What else?”

Malachi shakes his head. “That’s all. I passed out soon afterwards and when I came to, I saw that they crushed my glasses as well.”

I stare at him, my fingers still brushing over the bruises on his ribs. I should be comforting him, should be taking care of him. But all I can think about is what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.

How the fuck am I supposed to bring this up with my father?

Malachi is still looking at me, his eyes wary, but there’s something else in them too. Something pleading. He doesn’t want me to go to war over this, so I won’t. Yet.

I get to my feet and run a hand through my hair, then I look at him, forcing myself to push the rage down, at least for now. “Alright,” I say quietly, brushing my fingers over his jaw, over the cut on his cheekbone. “We do this smart.”

Malachi swallows, nodding once. I press my forehead against his, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I promise you,mo stóirín,” I murmur, “I’ll figure this out.”

And I fucking will.

The house is silent except for the distant creak of the old wood settling in the cold night air. Malachi is asleep now after I had our doctor see to him, curled up on his side, his breath slow and steady.

But I can’t fucking sleep.

Not with this rage burning inside me.

I sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand down my face, then turning to stare at the bruises on Malachi’s ribs. The anger claws at me, whispering, “Fix this. Make it right.”

I breathe in through my nose and push to my feet.

I’m done waiting.

Chapter 38

Connor

ThesecondIcloseMalachi’s door behind me, I know there’s no turning back. My feet move on instinct, each step heavier than the last, the weight of what I’m about to do pressing down on my fucking chest like a goddamn vice.

But I don’t stop. I can’t. Not after what I saw. Not after running my hands over the bruises someone put on my fucking Malachi. Not after knowing exactly who the fuck ordered it.

The hall is dark and silent, the rest of the house dead asleep, but I know he’s awake. He always is. My father doesn’t sleep much—comes with the territory of ruling a goddamn empire. And tonight? He sure as fuck ain’t going to be getting any rest.

By the time I reach his office, my heart is hammering, my blood running hot and my jaw clenched so tight it aches. I don’t bother knocking. I shove the door open, stepping inside, slamming it shut behind me.

---