My eyes land on the top of one of them.
“Log Sixty-Three – Unverified Access: The numbers don’t make sense. Neither does the way she knew them before I did.”
I cringe.
“What is this?” I ask, though I already know. Somewhere deep inside, I think I’ve always known.
“A scientist’s journal,” Malachi says quietly. “It looks like it documents the first Avid.”
I swallow hard. “I didn’t know we’ve been around that long. I thought we were… something caused by the environment, the food, or maybe a mutation passed down.”
The truth never had a name before. Now it’s inked in someone else’s handwriting.
He watches me carefully. “I only got through a few entries,but I think she was a normal person. Someone got too close to, and something about her changed.”
I run my fingers along the edge of the thick paper.
“Thank you for giving it to me,” I murmur. “I’ll let you know if I find anything useful.”
He nods, and I place the book on the nightstand beside me, careful not to look at it again.
I already know the truth hiding in those pages might not merely explain what I am.
It might ruin me.
“This day feels more like a week. I can’t believe I almost lost you,” he says, pulling back the covers and sliding into bed beside me. “We were so close to ending things with my father.”
I shift to face him. “Is it even safe to go back to Irina’s? Marco knows about the Depths now. He knows you want him dead. Lines have been drawn, Malachi… and we still don’t know who’s playing both sides.”
I hate adding to the weight already pressing down on him, but pretending otherwise won’t help us. If Cade isn’t the rat, I have no idea who it could be. Maybe Marco said it to shake us, but he knew things he shouldn’t.
Malachi exhales slowly, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I’ll protect you. If he makes a move, we’ll be ready.”
He settles against the pillows and pulls me closer to him. His body is firm and warm against mine, his muscles wound too tight. He smells of fresh soap and rain, the kind that falls after a storm and sinks into the earth. It’s intoxicating. Familiar. His scent curls around me, making it hard to remember why I’m supposed to be angry with him.
Right now, all I want is to forget, to lose myself in something that feels steady. Real.
His hand slides up, fingers curling under my chin, guiding my face to his. The moonlight slips through the window,painting silver shadows across his features. His eyes rake over me, as if he’s trying to piece together the war still raging behind mine.
His fingers stay at my chin, thumb brushing slow strokes on my jaw. “Those gorgeous blue eyes of yours, they’ve been looking at me like you want to strangle me… or maybe straddle me,” he says, lips quirking up on one side. “Which is it?”
Amused but not wanting to show it, I narrow my eyes. “Strangle. Obviously.”
He grins fully now, cocky and far-too pleased. “You sure? Because your body’s saying otherwise.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet here you are. In my bed.”
I shove his chest. “You’re the one who came into my bed.”
“You really going to push me away, Katja?” His voice fills my ears. “After the day we’ve had?”
“I’m mad at you, or did you forget?” I whisper as my fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt.
“Then take it out on me,” he says, dipping his head until our foreheads nearly touch. “Yell at me. Hit me. Kiss me. I don’t care. But don’t shut me out.”
I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him to me, my mouth crashing into his. His lips are soft, his tongue warm, and the desire burns fast and bright inside me. My other hand slides into his hair as I climb onto his lap, kissing him until I’m out of breath.
