Page 17 of Shameless Royalty

Malachi stares at me for a moment, then glances at the tray. “And if I don’t want to?”

“You can try that,” I say, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “But you’ll still be out the door in five minutes, whether you’ve eaten or not. Your call.”

I don’t wait for his response. I step into the hall, leaning against the wall while he decides. True to form, it takes him four minutes and fifty seconds to open the door.

“Done,” he says, his tone flat. “Now what?”

I smirk, gesturing for him to follow me. “Now, you walk. And just so we’re clear, you can try to leg it if you like, but you won’t get far. Not unless you wanna put the ‘target’ in target practice.”

“I figured,” he mutters, trailing behind me as I lead him downstairs.

The estate is quiet this early, the kind of calm that usually settles over the place before everyone starts barking orders or plotting something. Outside, the morning air is crisp, the sky a dull gray, promising rain later.

We step onto the gravel path, and I motion for Malachi to keep up. He pushes up his glasses and shoves his hands in his pockets, his posture tense as he looks around. His eyes dart from the sprawling lawns to the hedges lining the driveway, then to the woods in the distance.

“Where are we goin’?” he asks, his voice breaking the silence.

“Nowhere,” I say. “Just a loop around the property.”

“And this is supposed to be… what? Your version of exercise for prisoners?”

“Somethin’ like that,” I reply, not looking at him.

The walk is awkward. He keeps his distance, his shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself smaller. I glance at him occasionally, watching the way he moves, like he’s unsure of every step he takes. Eyes downcast and pinched lips, not even sparing me a glance.

It’s the same look Cat had when we brought her home. Lost. Like a piece of him is still back in his old flat, and the rest doesn’t know how to fit here.

I try to think of something to say, some half-joke or sarcastic comment to cut through the tension, but nothing feels right. Instead, we walk in silence, the gravel crunching under our feet the only sound.

“Why am I here?” Malachi finally asks, his voice quiet.

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Here as in ‘on this estate’ or here as in ‘alive’?”

“Take your pick,” he says, throwing my words back at me.

I stop walking, turning to face him. He stops too, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. “You’re here because of your father,” I say simply.

He blinks, his brows furrowing. “I know that much, but what the hell does he have to do with any of this? Why suddenly come after my father now by usin’ me?”

I take a deep breath, the words heavier than I expected. “Your da orchestrated the kidnappin’ of my sister and one of her closest friends. He put them through hell, and we responded in kind.”

Malachi stares at me, his face paling. “So… what? This is revenge?”

“Not exactly,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re leverage. A way to make sure he doesn’t try something like that again.”

He takes a step back, his jaw tightening. “I had nothin’ to do with that. I’ve never had anythin’ to do with his business.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “That’s why you’re still breathin’.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” he snaps, his voice rising. “I’m just supposed to be okay with it?”

“No one’s askin’ you to be okay with it,” I reply with a long-suffering sigh. “But this is how it works, Malachi. This is the world your father built and the one you were born into.”

He glares at me, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “And what about your world, huh? How are you any better?”

I meet his gaze, the question cutting deeper than I’d like to admit. “I’m not. But I protect my family, no matter what it takes. That’s the only thing that matters.”

He looks away, his shoulders slumping. For a moment, I almost feel sorry for him.Almost.He’s still the son of the enemy, still someone we’re meant to use, as fucked up as it sounds.

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