Chapter Thirty-Two
Malachi's POV
I woke before dawn.
Sleep had become a luxury I couldn't afford. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her—Alicia, with that haunted look she wore when she thought no one was watching. The way she moved through the world like she was already half-dead.
It made me want to burn things.
I sat up, dragging a hand through my hair, and stared at the Dark City skyline. The hotel was quiet. The kind of quiet that amplified every violent thought running through my head.
She was hiding something. And it was eating at me.
I called Maurice before the sun fully rose. "Reserve the private lounge. Breakfast for two."
"Yes, sir." A pause. "Mrs. Blackwood?"
"Make sure she comes. I don't care how."
When I hung up, I dressed with the precision of a man preparing for war. Cufflinks. Watch. The charcoal suit that fit like armor. Control started with appearance—the world bent for men who looked like they already owned it.
