Page 37 of Thunder's Reckoning
He didn’t move. His eyes stayed sharp, scanning the room, then the window, like he half-expected this to be a trap.
Zeke poured cereal into bowls, added milk, and slid one in front of Zara. She grinned and dug in, crunching loud. Then he reached into the cupboard, pulled out the chocolate syrup, and tipped it into a glass of milk before sliding it across the table.
“Not every day I share my favorite stuff,” he said, his drawl easy. “But you look like the kind who’d appreciate it.”
Malik hesitated. His eyes flicked to me, not suspicious—afraid. He’d overheard more than I thought. Knew his father’s name was back in the air. Close enough to fear.
Slowly, he crossed the floor and sat beside Zara. His hand brushed hers under the table, protective even as he picked up the glass.
Zara giggled when the cereal splashed milk onto the wood. Zeke grabbed a rag from the counter and wiped it clean without a word. The sight of him, broad shoulders bent over the table, steadying her bowl like it was nothing, did something dangerous to me.
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying to keep my breathing even. This wasn’t Zeke’s house. Wasn’t mine either. Just four walls, a roof, cupboards filled with food we hadn’t begged for. But somehow, right here, it almost felt like safety.
Almost.
Because Malik’s eyes never left the door.
Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet, careful. “Who were those men?”
The question cut straight through me.
Zeke set the rag down, straightened. His voice was steady when he answered. “Brothers of mine. Devil and Mystic. Theyain’t here to hurt you, son. Wouldn’t turn you over, neither. Not their way.”
Malik’s shoulders stayed stiff. “They looked… dangerous.”
Zeke’s jaw worked. “They are. To the wrong kind of people. But not to y’all. Not to your momma.”
Malik stared at him a long time, chewing slow, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe it. His fear sat heavy in his eyes, too big for a boy his age to carry.
I reached for his shoulder, squeezed gently. “It’s alright, Malik. You can trust him.”
But I knew trust wasn’t a switch that flipped. Not for me. Not for my son.
CHAPTER TWENTY
GABRIAL
THE DOORcreaked open like it was afraid of me.Good. Everything should fear me.
They dragged Tallis in by his arms, boots scraping ugly marks across the marble floor—marks I’d make someone scrub until their fingers bled. His head hung low, dried blood crusted in his hair, bruises blooming down his jaw. He looked pathetic. Weak.
But weakness could hide rot. Eve had looked pure once, too.
I stayed behind my desk, sleeves rolled neat to my elbows like this was any other meeting, just another trial beforejudgment. This office had seen a hundred such things. It would see a hundred more.
“I want the room,” I said.
The guards hesitated—half a second too long.
My voice didn’t rise. Didn’t need to. “I said leave.”
Their boots echoed as they backed out, door shutting with a final thud that reminded me of burial vaults. Permanent. Eternal.
Tallis stayed on his knees, wrists bound, chest rising too fast. He looked up at me, and there it was. Not fear. Not regret. Clarity. That was worse.
“I know why you helped her,” I said, my voice quiet as ash. “But I want to hear it. From your mouth.”
He spat blood onto the marble. It spread like a stain between us. “Because she deserved better than the prison you called a life.”
