Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alicia's POV
Every mile closer to Dark City felt like a nail being hammered into my chest.
I kept my face turned toward the window, watching the landscape blur past. Trees. Buildings. Signs announcing our approach to the city I'd sworn never to return to.
The car was too small. Too intimate. I could smell Malachi's cologne. Feel the heat radiating from him. Sense his eyes on me every few minutes, checking, watching, analyzing.
I hated it. Hated how aware I was of him. Hated that even in my anxiety, part of me found comfort in his presence.
That made it worse somehow. That I was starting to depend on him. To want him near.
"You can relax," he said after we'd been driving for a while. "I'm not going to attack you."
I didn't answer. Couldn't. My throat felt tight, and if I opened my mouth, I was afraid everything would come spilling out. The memories. The fear. The reason why Dark City felt like stepping back into a grave.
"Alicia."
"What?"
"Talk to me."
"About what?"
"Anything. Everything. Why you don't want to go to Dark City."
My hands clenched in my lap. "I told you. I just don't."
"That's not a reason. That's avoidance."
He was right, and I hated that too. "Can we not do this? Can we just drive in silence?"
"No. We have three days together. You can't avoid me the entire time."
"Watch me."
I heard him chuckle softly. Like my resistance amused him. Like this was all some game.
Maybe it was to him. Maybe I was just entertainment. A project to occupy his time while Travis lay unconscious in that hospital bed.
"Fine," he said. "We'll drive in silence. But tonight, at the hotel, we're going to talk. Really talk. And you're going to tell me what you're so afraid of."
"I'm not afraid."
"Liar."
I finally looked at him. Really looked at him. His hands on the steering wheel. His profile sharp and perfect. Those dark eyes that saw too much.
"You don't know me, Malachi. You don't know anything about me."
"Then tell me. Help me know you."
"Why? Why do you even care?"
He was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer. "Because I do. Whether you believe it or not."
Something in my chest ached. I turned back to the window before he could see my face. Before he could see how much those words affected me.
The rest of the drive passed in heavy silence. But I couldn't relax. Couldn't stop thinking about what waited for us in Dark City.
The streets where I used to walk. The hospital where my mother died. The apartment where my father's drinking turned him into someone I didn't recognize.
When the city skyline finally appeared, my entire body went rigid.
"We're here," Malachi said.
"I can see that."
"Alicia."
"What?"
"Whatever happened here, whatever you're afraid of, I won't let it hurt you again. You're safe with me."
I laughed, but it came out bitter. Empty. "Safe. With a Blackwood. That's funny."
"I'm not Travis."
"No. You're worse. You're dangerous in ways he never was."
He didn't deny it. Just kept driving into the city, navigating streets that felt both familiar and foreign.
The Grand Meridian Hotel was exactly what I expected. Luxury. Elegance. The kind of place where people like the Blackwoods felt at home and people like me felt like imposters.
A valet took the car while bellhops rushed to grab our luggage. Malachi moved through the lobby like he owned it, and maybe he did. Maybe the Blackwoods owned half this city for all I knew.
At the front desk, he collected our keys. Then he turned to me with that infuriating smirk.
"We're on the same floor. Rooms 1215 and 1217."
Of course we were. "Let me guess. Right across from each other?"
"Actually, right next to each other. I thought about getting connecting rooms, but I figured you'd accuse me of being presumptuous."
"You are presumptuous."
"True. But I'm also thoughtful. You'll appreciate having me close by when you realize how safe it makes you feel."
I wanted to argue. To tell him I didn't need him. That I'd been taking care of myself for years.
But I was too tired. Too anxious. Too overwhelmed by being back in this city.
We rode the elevator in silence. Walked down the hallway to our rooms. I unlocked mine and was about to step inside when Malachi's voice stopped me.
"Give yourself an hour to settle in. Then meet me in the lobby."
"Why?"
"Because I'm taking you sightseeing."
"I don't want to go sightseeing."
"Yes, you do. You just don't know it yet." He disappeared into his room before I could argue further.
I stood there for a moment, staring at his closed door. Then I went into my own room and locked it behind me.
The space was beautiful. King-size bed. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A bathroom with a tub big enough for three people.
But all I could see was the view. Dark City spread out below me like a nightmare wrapped in evening lights.
I unpacked mechanically. Hung up my clothes. Arranged my toiletries. Tried to focus on the mundane tasks instead of the memories clawing at the edges of my mind.
Exactly one hour later, there was a knock on my door.
"Ready?" Malachi called through the wood.
No. I'd never be ready. But I opened the door anyway.
He'd changed into dark jeans and a black sweater. Casual. Devastating. Looking at him made my chest tight in a completely different way than the anxiety.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"You'll see."
I followed him to his car, and we drove into the city. He played tour guide, pointing out landmarks and telling stories like he'd spent years here.
"That's the Hamilton Theater. Best performances in the region."
"The museum district is down that way. We could go tomorrow if you want."
"This restaurant has the best seafood you'll ever taste."
I nodded along, pretending to care. Pretending the streets weren't pulling up memories with every turn.
Then he turned down a familiar street. Too familiar.
My breath caught.
"This is one of the older neighborhoods," Malachi said. "Being renovated now. Lots of young families moving in."
I stared at the building on the left. Third floor. Second window from the end.
That had been my window. My room. The place where I'd hidden when my father came home drunk. Where I'd cried into my pillow so my little sister wouldn't hear.
A different family lived there now. I could see children's toys on the balcony. Cheerful curtains in the windows.
They didn't know. Didn't know about the ghosts that lived in those walls.
"You okay?" Malachi asked.
"Fine." My voice came out strangled. "Can we keep moving?"
He gave me a long look but didn't press. Just kept driving.
We ended up at the waterfront. The city had built a new promenade. Shops. Restaurants. Lights strung up between lampposts.
It was beautiful. Nothing like the run-down docks I remembered from childhood.
"Come on," Malachi said, getting out of the car. "Let's walk."
I followed reluctantly. The evening air was cool, carrying the salt smell of the water. Couples strolled hand in hand. Families laughed over ice cream cones.
It was so normal. So peaceful. The opposite of every memory I had of this city.
"Hungry?" Malachi asked.
"Not really."
"Too bad. We're eating anyway."
He led me to a restaurant overlooking the water. We got a table on the outdoor patio, and I had to admit the view was stunning. The city lights reflected on the dark water like scattered stars.
"Order whatever you want," Malachi said, not even looking at his menu.
"I'm not hungry."
"Alicia." He set his menu down and looked at me. "You need to eat. When was the last time you had a real meal?"
I tried to remember. Had I eaten lunch? Breakfast?
"That's what I thought." He ordered for both of us when the waiter came. Some kind of fish. Pasta. Wine.
"I don't drink," I said.
"One glass won't hurt you. It'll help you relax."
Maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to relax. To stop seeing danger in every shadow.
The food arrived, and despite myself, I ate. It was delicious. Fresh. Nothing like the bland meals at the Blackwood mansion.
Malachi talked throughout dinner. About the conference tomorrow. About the city's history. About nothing important.
But his voice was soothing. And slowly, gradually, I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders.
"See?" he said when I'd cleaned my plate. "You were hungry."
"Maybe a little."
"Tell me something." He leaned forward. "What's your favorite memory? From any time in your life."
I thought about it. "The ocean. That trip with my mother and sister. We spent the whole day on the beach. Built sandcastles. Collected shells. My mother laughed so much that day. I'd never seen her that happy."
"How old were you?"
"Eight."
"And your sister?"
"Five. She was so little. So full of life." My chest tightened. "I wonder where she is now. If she's okay."
"You don't talk to her?"
"No. After my father remarried and moved away, we lost contact. I tried calling a few times, but the numbers were disconnected."
Malachi's expression darkened. "Your family abandoned you."
"Yes."
"That's why you don't ask them for help. Why you've endured everything alone."
I looked away. "I learned early that I couldn't depend on anyone. That I had to survive on my own."
"You're not alone anymore, Alicia."
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that someone finally cared. But I'd been hurt too many times.
"We should go back," I said, changing the subject.
"Not yet. Look."
He pointed to the sky. Suddenly, fireworks exploded overhead. Brilliant colors bursting against the darkness. Red. Gold. Blue. Green.
People around us oohed and ahhed. Children pointed excitedly. Couples held each other close.
And Malachi watched me. Not the fireworks. Me.
"Beautiful," he said quietly.
I knew he wasn't talking about the lights.
After the fireworks ended, we walked back to the car. The drive to the hotel was quiet. Comfortable, almost.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe I could survive three days here.
When we reached our floor, Malachi walked me to my door.
"Thank you," I said. "For tonight. For trying to distract me."
"Did it work?"
"A little."
He smiled. "Then mission accomplished. Get some sleep, Alicia. Big day tomorrow."
I unlocked my door and stepped inside. "Goodnight, Malachi."
"Goodnight."
I closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
Maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe Dark City didn't have to be all bad memories. Maybe I could make new ones. Better ones.
I changed into my pajamas and was about to climb into bed when my phone buzzed.
A text. Unknown number.
I frowned and opened it.
Unknown: Little Ghost. Long time, no see.
My blood turned to ice.
Little Ghost.
That nickname.
My fingers started shaking. The phone slipped in my grip, and I nearly dropped it.
No.
No, it couldn't be.
But that nickname. No one else knew it. No one else would use it.
I stared at the message, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.