[ON GOING] All Of Me 18+ Only (Book 3 of Lastor series) #Wattys2020

Chapter 8: Malachi

I stared out the window, watching as the land below slowly disappeared from my view and all our efforts with it. I still didn't understand how it all came to be this way.

"Do you think she's still there?" Jakob asked as he sat across from me.

"She's probably gone now," I said quietly in regret. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "We didn't have a chance."

"She gave me one. I had her alone." I curled my hands into fists. "I wasted it."

"Did you hold back?"

I shook my head. "In the beginning, yes. But along the way, I... started trying to kill her."

"Was she really that strong?" he asked dubiously. "She was as short as Ava and skinnier than Summer."

"No, she wasn't strong," I said as I brushed my fingers against my side, the pain from her fists already diminishing after just a week of healing. "But she knew where to hit and after a while, it almost seemed like she knew where I would hit too."

"It didn't appear like that when she walked out," he muttered dryly.

My brows furrowed as I recalled our fight. "She let all my attacks land. The only times she blocked or diverted my attacks were when I aimed for her chest."

"Father said she had a heart transplant, it's sensible to focus her defenses on it." He rolled his shoulders, his movements stiff. "I was afraid of her," he mumbled, clenching his fists. "I had her right in front of me. She was already beaten down and exhausted. I could have taken her hostage, but I was too afraid to dare. She looked like Mama but her presence... it was just like Father's." He unclenched his fists, rubbing his palms against his cheeks. "Why did he lie? If we'd known what she was capable of, we could have prepared for it."

"I don't think he lied," I said, shaking my head. "I think... I think the Vivien he knows is different from the Vivien we met. She was so glorious."

"Why does it sound like you admire her, Mal?" he spat in disapproval.

I pursed my lips, lowering my gaze. "I'm only speaking frankly."

"Well, watch how you speak." He leaned forward, regarding me with no hint of humor. "Father is our master. Not her."

"I know," I said, a bitter taste filling my mouth.

Father was our master and all my life, I had submitted to his rule. As a clueless boy, I revered him. He was a God in my eyes. Even as I watched him break into pieces my mother and younger siblings, I still followed him. But these days, I've found it hard to remain on my knees. He had become weak. His wealth diminished, his worldly authority all but gone, his sanity unraveling, and his physique that of a dying old man. But still, I remained loyal in my service because I couldn't see a life outside of him. Now though, I couldn't help but wonder.

Why must I serve such a weak master when I had found a perfect being in my other half?

********

Father was quiet. He was always quiet when he was delivering his punishments. I had often thought it was almost like he was praying for our damned souls, cleansing us at every lashing.

"I'm struggling to comprehend how such a failure occurred under your supervision," he said in a hush voice, his rage holding me still. "Did you not say you would bring her to me?" He whipped me when I didn't respond. "I asked a question."

"I did," I whispered.

"Then why is she not here, Malachi?" he said through gritted teeth.

I kept my head down, breathing through the pain. "She... was nothing like you said."