Page 110 of Redeeming the Villain

“I love you too,” I mutter, wondering if that’s the truth or just another lie.

Ending the call and shoving my phone in my jeans pocket, I spin around to head back to the living room and slam to a halt, finding Malik standing five feet from me, looking pissed as hell, his jaw locked shut and eyebrows low.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask him, walking up to him and reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck.

But he backs away and closes his eyes the moment I touch him. He breathes through his nose, taking a few breaths before opening his eyes.

“I’m sorry. Did I do something?” I ask, suddenly feeling incredibly lonely after the conversation I just had with my dad and now this.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek. “Sorry, I’m just … I’m just tired. I need to go lie down. Excuse me.”

My heart cracks, the tiniest microscopic fracture. “Just talk to me, Malik. Maybe I can help.”

His voice is cold and cruel, bringing me back to my childhood as he mutters, “You couldn’t possibly understand.”

When he brushes past me, I feel him take part of me with him as he rushes downstairs to his room, and I’m left standing in the foyer with the heaviest weight on my chest.

Feeling incredibly small and invisible, I fight back the tears welling in my eyes.

He’s not good with communication—I know that. But he can’t keep shutting me out and hope that we’ll just continue on as is. We both need more than that. And I need him to let me in, to show me that this means as much to him as it does to me.

If I want this to work, I’m willing to put in the effort, but he needs to meet me halfway. Maybe I’ll just give him a little boost.

My feet are moving, crossing the grand foyer with no sign of stopping. I descend the stairs to the lower east wing toward Malik’s room.

Don’t stop now. Stand tall. Be strong.

Approaching his door, I grab the handle and throw it open, finding Malik sitting on his bed with his head in his hands.

My heart completely breaks at the image of him shattering, wetness gathering in his gaze as he lifts it to mine.

For a split second, I see the broken boy inside, the one so terrified of the world that he stays hidden behind the sharp and thorny shell he’s worked so hard to build.

I take a step toward him.

“Don’t,” Malik warns me with one word. “You can’t be in here.”

I feel like I’m facing a lion in the wild, completely unsure of when or if the beast will strike.

My voice is steady and calm. “But you’re in my room all the time. Why can’t I be in yours?”

He bites his bottom lip in frustration, rising to his feet, his mouth drawn taut. “Because I said so, Alora.”

“Just like that?” I lose my composure, snapping at him. “I mean, why can’t you give me anactualreason?”

I take another step toward him, and the shell surrounding him stiffens even more.

“Tell me arealreason, something genuine, and I’ll leave,” I murmur. “Just open up to me, Malik.”

His eyes blur over, as if a scene is playing out in his mind. “I …”

“Is it about my dad? You know, I saw you two talking the day he was here.”

His gaze clears up, and the fury that ignites inside is unmatched to anything I’ve seen before. “You don’t know what you saw. He—he was just asking for directions.”

I scoff. “Oh, yeah, because when I give someone instructions, I yell at them and clench my fists.”

“Well, he was pissing me off with his holier-than-thou tone. What can I say? I despise authority.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

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