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Thirty
Seven Months Later
Malakai
Every daysince I left Connie, I’ve thought about her. Every mile I put between us I worried about how she was faring. Grant kept me informed, just like he promised he would. His updates were the only thing that kept me from going insane.
He told me how Connie still worked with Lola. That she sat most evenings on Broken Shores writing songs, even during the colder months. He told me how it took her a long time to get over her ordeal, but that eventually she put it behind her with the love and support of Lola and Ma Silva.
But me? I remained a broken man.
Dark thoughts followed me everywhere I went and no amount of writing in the numerous diaries I purchased have been able to soothe my soul, nor the ache I feel whenever I think of my Little Siren.
I missed her.
I ached for her in a way I never thought possible.
It was worse than when I left before, ten times more intense. I’m in pain and it’s a very real, physical pain. The first time I’d sailed away from her, I’d been selfish. I’d told myself that I left to keep her safe from the King and whilst there was a great deal of truth in that, it wasn’t the real reason why I’d left. I’d run from the feelings she’d stirred up in me. Then I returned last summer for the very same reason.
The night when I’d beat Abel to death, then threw his body in one of the dumpsters in the very same alley he was going to rape Connie in, I’d cleaned myself up as best I could, called in a favour, then flagged down a cab and got Connie onto my boat. She was so out of it, that it took her more than eight hours to come around. While she was unconscious, I’d considered sailing away with her. Instead, I’d called Ma Silva explaining what had transpired. She’d wanted me to return immediately, but I’d made up some story that there was a squall coming in and that it wasn’t safe enough to sail. It was a lie, of course. I’d wanted to watch over Connie myself, and I knew the moment we returned to the island I’d have to hand her over to her Ma Silva. So I’d sailed Princess towards a cove just along the mainland and dropped anchor. I knew I was just prolonging the inevitable, that eventually I’d have to take Connie home, but I’d snatched those few precious hours knowing they’d be my last.
Connie hadn’t stirred the whole time I watched over her. She’d slept heavily, oblivious to her surroundings. She didn’t wake up when I cleaned the scrape on her face or stripped her from the torn and dirty dress. I’d been careful, treating her with gentle hands and wrapping her up in one of my t-shirts, tucking her safely in bed. The rest of the time, I alternated between watching her sleep and purging my soul in my latest notebook. There are four of them now. Four notebooks filled to the brim with stories from my past and these emotions I can’t seem to keep under wraps, no matter how much I try to. I never thought I’d be the type of person who would need to cleanse his soul this way, but here I am.
It’s March now, and the last couple of weeks have been more hellish than most because I’m back on the island, and my Little Siren has no idea…
* * *
“She’s here, mate,”Grant says as he passes by the front room on the way to let Ma Silva in.
I’ve been staying with Grant, hiding out in his place during the day and scouting the Palace by night. A few weeks ago, whilst I was sailing aimlessly around the South of France I received a call from Grim. I knew the moment her number had flashed up on my phone that she was calling in the debt I owed her. Little did I know that debt would involve me spying on my cousin, the King, on the very island I vowed never to return to again.
He’s back and he’s brought a shit load of misery with him.
“Hello, Malakai,” Ma Silva says as she enters the living room. I’ve been back on the island almost two weeks, and this is the first time we’ve laid eyes on each other since that morning when I returned Connie to her last summer.
“Ma,” I grind out, gritting my teeth in an effort not to ask her about Connie.
She hands her coat and bag to Grant who takes them and leaves us to talk in peace. The man’s a true gent, and he’s proved his worth and his loyalty over and over these past few years. Settling on the sofa opposite me, she gives me a gentle smile. “You look tired,” she states.
“Not sleeping much these days,” I shrug.
What does she expect? I spend all night scoping out the Palace and all day trying to sleep only to be kept awake with thoughts of Connie. Knowing she’s so close by and not being able to see her, speak to her, fucking touch her; it’s killing me inside.
“Have you gathered any more information that I can pass onto Grim?” she asks me, fully aware of the situation we’ve both got caught up in. I’m also fully aware of the part I’m playing and the very dangerous tightrope I’m walking on. One wrong step and I’m dead. Which is precisely why I’m keeping well away from Connie and why tonight I’m going to demand that Ma Silva gets her off this fucking island and as far away from the King as possible.
“Yes. As Grim suspected he had a fewguestswith him. A girl with pink hair and a dark-skinned woman. Both appear to be being held prisoner. I spotted the girl in the east wing. The woman appears to have more freedom to move about the place. Though the Palace is heavily guarded.”
“The girl you speak of must be the one who’s missing from Oceanside Academy, the reform school for kids who’ve been in trouble with the law. She’s Asia’s friend.”
“Asia, as in the King’s illegitimate child?” I ask, knowing the answer already but wanting confirmation, nonetheless. That would make her my second cousin.
“Yes,” Ma Silva confirms.
No one was more surprised than me to hear the King had another child. I knew about Monk, heard about his birth and his rise to fame in the criminal world. By all accounts the little shit is a carbon copy of his father. But this Asia kid? She’s news to me. Seventeen and attending a reform school in Hastings, this feisty, young girl has a rap list as long as my arm. The second I found out about her I did my research. Fortunately for me, this time the dark web coughed up enough information for me to get a good picture of her, another Bennett, albeit an illegitimate one. Asia grew up in Hackney in a rundown council estate and has been in and out of foster care for most of her life. Her mother is dead, killed by her heroin addiction. She has two younger brothers, neither of which are the King’s, thank fuck. Asia’s a graffiti artist, and spunky, according to Grim who met her a few weeks back. She was sent to Oceanside Academy last September and caught the eye of the King who, up until this point, had no interest in her. Then again, if I know him as well as I think I do, he would’ve kept his eye on the poor kid, biding his time for the moment to act on whatever despicable scheme he had in mind. Grim told me she’s gathered her own little crew, four boys, two girls, one of whom is imprisoned by the King.
“The King has kidnapped Asia’s friend to get her in line… He’s up to something,” Ma Silva says, stating the obvious. I watch as she pulls at a piece of loose cotton on her skirt.
“No shit.”
