Page 66 of Redeeming the Villain

Mentally, I replace his image with my own and suck in a breath at the thought. We would look so good together, like yin and yang in so many ways.

My phone suddenly rings, tearing me from the delusional imagination that I need to run far away from.

As I read the name of the caller, my stomach drops to the floor.

No. I’m done with him. I’ve been done with him. He already got everything he wanted. What else could he possibly ask of me?

Answering the call from my uncle, I remain silent.

“Malik? Are you there?”

The sound of his voice forces me upright in bed, my fist clenching at my side.

“What do you want?” I spit.

“Just checking in. Seeing how things are going. Seeing if you’re holding up your end of the deal.” His last sentence is full of doubt and accusation.

As if I have any other choice. “Do you still have Micah?”

The only thing he could ever hold over my head to buy my silence...my brother. I’ve never seen the urn, never been able to hug or hold him. Instead, my uncle used it as a bargaining chip. As long as I never speak about the deal he made with Alora’s dad, then I know his ashes are safe. If I talk, my uncle said he would flush them or discard of them one way or another. I know he’s telling the truth.

In a weird way, I trust his word more than most people because he’s never lied to me. He never tried to pretend to be the loving and kind guardian. He showed me exactly who he was and only hid it from anyone else.

I won’t take a chance when it comes to Micah.

He scoffs, and I grind my teeth.

“Yes, of course I have him.”

“Then I haven’t said a word.” I swing my feet over the side of the bed and drop my head into my free hand, propped onto my knee with my elbow, shrinking into myself.

“Good boy, Malik. I knew I could count on you.” He pauses. “Have you gotten a deal to go pro yet?”

This was an inevitable question in this conversation. I haven’t heard from him in nearly three years since I moved out of the house and started living in my car.

Which can only mean one thing … he needs money.

“Not yet. Besides, you’re not getting a dime from me when I do.”

His laugh straightens my spine and flares my nostrils. “We’ll see about that.”

“The only reason you are even allowed to breathe right now is because I don’t want to lose Micah for good. He’s not only your bargaining chip; he’s your lifeline.” I stand up as my words and anger bubble out of me. “The second you spread his ashes, I would be on your doorstep, and I would gladly become the last face you ever saw. Whether you know it or not, he’s the only reason you’re alive. Killing that connection only kills you too.”

He exhales loudly. “You’ve always had a smart mouth on you, haven’t you?” His Southern accent comes out strong in his next words. “I should have hit you harder. Maybe then you would have learned to show some respect.”

Ending the call, I chuck my phone across the room, much harder than I intended, leaving a dent in the drywall after it falls to the floor.

My breathing is ragged, my chest spasming as I start pacing in my room, trying to calm myself down. But nothing’s working.

Unbridled rage punches through my lungs as deep-rooted and buried pain fights to the surface. I should have killed him when I was younger. I should have done it the night my uncle and Alora’s dad struck that deal. You’d think there was a finite amount of regret one person could feel, but you’d be wrong because I feel more every single day.

As if Griffin somehow senses my distress, he knocks on my open door, and I turn, finding him leaning against the doorframe.

“Everything okay?”

Biting my tongue, I tilt my head side to side. “It’ll be fine.”

He holds my stare for a moment as he searches my face, but I shut the fortress down, becoming a blank and unreadable canvas. But I can’t slow down my erratic heartbeat and heaving breaths.

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