We found Ailech with Malachi, drunk and uproariously laughing in an empty mess hall in the middle of the night. I hadn't heard Malachi laugh, really laugh, for the better part of two decades, and it made my stomach twist with unease and my chest tighten with sadness in an unnatural sequence. Malachi wiped at his eyes dramatically as we approached, leaning back in his chair as he drained a wine glass. And from the bottles surrounding the legs of the table, it seemed it wasn't his first, or even fifteenth.

He leveled his near-glowing eyes on Jordan as we approached, a slow-spreading smile stretching his face. And somehow, I knew he knew what had happened after he left us in the gym. His words moments later confirmed it and mortified me.

"I see you finally let out all that pent-up frustration. Good for you, Mors. And Gabby, I didn't think you had it in you, quite literally."

I hated the old nickname he called me, and Jordan didn't seem to appreciate hers either, as she glared at Ailech, who must have told of her moniker. He pretended not to notice though, sipping at his own wine glass like it was an incredibly intricate process. When Jordan didn't answer, I spoke in her stead.

"Ailech, sober up, we know where to find my father."

Both Ailech and Malachi's eyes widened, and though I enjoyed seeing Malachi so transparent, something about the way his jaw set right after put me on edge. Jordan must have seen it too, as she was watching Malachi with her brow furrowed, like she was trying to see into him. But I had been trying that, trying to search his soul ever since his arrival, and all to very little end.

She continued to watch him anyway, determination etched onto her face as he placidly, perhaps drunkenly, looked back at her, tapping his collar to some unknown beat, one corner of his mouth quirked up into a sinister grin.

"You can't get into my hea-"

He started in a sing-song voice, surprisingly smooth for how deep and rough it usually was. But then Malachi snapped his mouth shut, concentration lining his face as well.

"You. Can't." He ground out, his voice back to a feral growl.

"Actually, I can. For one, you're drunk which makes you an easy target. But more than that, you shared blood with me, forged a connection, and whether you like it or not, we are connected beyond that too, even before the blood. I knew when the Collector was torturing you in your dream, I know how to get you to talk, and...I've seen under your anger, seen under your emotions when I strip them away. So, I. Can. Get. In. Your. Head. Because I know you, somehow."

There was strain in Jordan's voice by the end, as they were clearly battling in a way neither Ailech nor I could see. And it seemed Jordan was winning. I didn't like that she had some unknown connection to Malachi, but I couldn't deny that it was true. And his heal and blood sharing had only solidified it more.

"Why did you choose tonight to get drunk? Why did you react like you did in the gym - what is it about today? What do you know?"

Jordan asked each question as she stepped forward, one step per statement, getting closer to Malachi and answers with each. He shook his head like he thought he could fling her from his mind. His hair briefly hid his face as he fisted his hands on the table. I saw Jordan's pupils warring with their storm-gray, and I knew she was pulling even more power to break through his wine-soaked defenses.

"Tell me," her voice sounded different and before I looked I knew she had fully Shifted.

I hadn't thought about why now, why Malachi was suddenly acting so strange. I figured it was merely because he was changing, because he was away from my father's influence, because today had been straining, reminding him of years of trauma and torture, psychological and physical. But that hadn't been it at all. I had been fooled by him. My greatest blindspot always had been my past. But he hadn't fooled Jordan, she saw it, sensed it, recognized that something was off. I thanked the ceiling for her for what seemed the tenth time in the last day. I truly didn't deserve her.

Malachi didn't share my gratitude as he scowled at her, clearly still trying to protect his thoughts. But Jordan was in control now, and when her eyes returned to gray, I knew she had whatever answers she sought.

"It's a trap. The Collector sent us these dreams to get us to rush off to save Ace's pack...and get captured in the process. Malachi has known about this all along, down to the day."

Surprisingly, Malachi wasn't glaring at us in defiance as Jordan spilled their plan. Instead he was staring at the table, his jaw set, his shoulders tight.

"Is this true?"

I heard my voice in the silence, though I didn't remember opening my mouth. I sounded disappointed, angry, but I knew it was stupid to be. Malachi wasn't an ally, no matter how I tried to paint him as one in my head. No matter how hard I wanted him to be or tried to search for signs of redemption, he was still an enemy.

"You two would be stupid enough to fall for the same trick twice."

He spoke to the table, still staring at the wood grain beneath his fists, and the hatred in his voice was enough to launch me across the space between us.

I had one hand fisted in the collar of his shirt as I pulled him forward over the table, my other already cocked back when I felt the air around me solidify into a clear cast. A growl crawled up my throat, but Jordan ignored it, and me, keeping her air holding me back. Malachi yanked himself out of my grasp and sat back heavily before slowly raising his eyes to watch me with an emotion I couldn't place. I glared my burning anger back, my disappointment and disgust.

"But then why get drunk? In celebration or to dull your guilt? Why hide from us all day? And why would James' collar affect you so much if you were waiting to betray us anyway? I felt your emotions when you left the gym...I felt fear, and pain, and sorrow. And even now, I saw the plan in your mind, the Collector's plan, but you aren't happy, you aren't waiting for it with anticipation. You're dreading it. You're disappointed in us. Angry at us, not because you hate us, but because we didn't figure it out. And you wanted us to."

Throughout Jordan's words, Malachi's scowl darkened and deepened until it twisted his face. The air she had used to hold me back softened and I stepped down just as Malachi slammed his fists onto the table, his eyes black as he stood and shouted back at her.

"Enough! You do not know me, or my mind, or what I want! Because what I want is you all in pieces at my feet! On your fucking knees! I only want my master to win and this silly game to be over. I want to have this all be over!"

His chest was heaving by the time he finished, his face wild, matching his white hair which was messier than usual. But Jordan didn't react to his Shift or words or even volume. Instead, she smiled and crossed her arms over her chest, settling back on her heels, her chin rising higher.

"I can tell when you're lying now. You do want this over, but you don't want us dead. You want us to win. You've said as much before. And you're only angry because you don't think we will. But I'm telling you - you're wrong - we will win. See for yourself and come with us tonight, come to the manor and face him."

"No!"

Two voices rang out in unison, and I was surprised that mine was one of them, the other Ailech's, who seemed to have sobered up considerably during the conversation, healing the poison from his veins. Malachi stayed silent as he watched Jordan like she was crazy. And I was inclined to agree.

"No," he said after a few drawn out beats of silence, sounding at the crossroads of apprehensive and confused. "Of course no."

"You want our side to win, well, the three of us and Ailech have a better chance. Three Halves and a mage who can steal strength - I think that can take down one Fallen. The math checks out."

Jordan was smiling wider now, though I couldn't tell why. She knew Malachi wouldn't agree, or if he did, it would only be a trick so he could turn on us and rejoin my father, trying to lessen whatever punishment he knew was waiting for him. Surely Jordan would be able to see that, to see through him, if he agreed. Malachi's confusion was growing along with mine as his eyebrows came together, his lips a thin line before he answered.

"Why would you even ask me, you know my answer."

"Do I?" Jordan smiled sweetly.

"And you can't still be going either. You know it's a trap, so, no, I won't go, but neither will you."

"Won't I?" Her smile continued as she narrowed her eyes in question.

"Stop that! You aren't going! I am not going! No one is going!"

Malachi looked wild again as he yelled at my calm Pair. She truly could rile him up easily, whenever and however she wanted. I almost felt sorry for how skillfully she could play him.

"He will kill a pack that we promised our protection to. And I have no intention of letting that happen, and unlike you, I won't hide here in the Vault because I'm a coward."

And then I saw Jordan's angle, though I doubted she could make Malachi turn on my father simply by taunting him, by showing him he was being weak for wanting us to win but not being willing to help us do it. Calling on his pride nor his honor would work; after so many years with my father, I doubted he had either. Jordan continued when Malachi ignored her dig.

"Now that we know where the Collector will be and that it's a trap, we can lay our own. And thanks to you not reporting back to him truthfully, he doesn't know about Ailech. So yes, actually, we are still going to the manor tonight, and we are still going to stop him. So again, I'll ask, will you come with us?"

"No."

Malachi answered faster this time, firmer. His eyes darting between me and my Pair like he was hoping I would show some reason, stop this madness and order her to stay too. His whole body was tensed like a bow in the silence. And though I didn't hold the same faith as Jordan, either that Malachi would join us so easily or that we would win against my father, I stayed silent and stoic. I watched Malachi as calmly as I could, trying to hold my mask in place to hide the cracks and my own fear underneath.

It was a strange feeling, knowing what Jordan said was true, knowing that even a powerful prophecy said there was a chance, but still not believing we could beat my father, not really. We would lose. I knew it and I hated it. I couldn't tell anymore if I was pessimistic because of the history I had with my father, or if I was being realistic because of it. Whatever it was, the pit in my stomach said that whether Malachi came with us or not, we wouldn't win. We couldn't. How do you defeat evil? How do you end darkness? Jordan didn't know my father, she didn't know what we were truly up against.

"So you'd rather be the Collector's bitch for all of eternity than have the possibility of freedom on our side? Hm, surprising. You've tasted just a drop of freedom here - even with the collar - in fact, I bet this is the freest you've been for years, decades, maybe ever. And when we win, I'll make Abby take that collar off of you, and you can be truly free. Unless that scares you. I suppose some people are better under others, some people crave that, being controlled. Some need a master. I just didn't peg you for that type."

Jordan's words struck a chord in me, being so similar to words Jevin had spoken before. But Malachi still didn't rise to her bait.

"This game you're trying won't work. I'm not a fucking idiot."

Malachi's answer wasn't nearly as biting as I would have expected. Instead, he sounded sad, weary, like he was unhappy with his own response, or maybe the wine was finally taking a deeper effect.

"You really don't want to see the look on his face when he realizes you aren't his pawn anymore? His pet? I was owned before too, you know, and my only regret is that I never got to see the shock on his face as I turned on him. My master died while I was still his. He got to die thinking I was weak and he was strong, knowing that he still owned me. Don't you want to be there when the monster who bent you, broke you, tortured and groomed you and stole your entire life, made you endure everything that you have, made James endure everything he has - don't you want to be there when the light finally leaves his disgusting eyes? Instead of hiding here in the Vault?

I've felt the fear under that armor you hold up, your anger. But you can choose what you want to become, that fear doesn't have to choose. Do you want to be a coward or a warrior? Do you want revenge or refuge?"

Malachi's muscles tightened with each of Jordan's words, winding further and further, but he refused to raise his head and look at us. Instead, his shaking fists were laid on the table, his head bowed as he stayed still, breathing in and out, his shoulders rising and falling deeply. And though he wasn't using his Gift to push his emotions out, I felt his anger growing like it tainted the air, like smoke taking up more and more space. But for once, I didn't think his anger was for us, it was all for my father. Jordan's words were getting to him. She must have realized it too, as she paused, letting silence fall on us until Malachi answered.

"He'll kill me when he gets me again. Slowly. I know that now. I've disobeyed him too often, too deeply this time. He won't want me as a rival to James either. Which means I die if he wins whether I side with you or not."

Malachi spoke quietly, and with how low his voice sank, he was difficult to hear.

"Which means you can never go back to him. Which means you either choose our side, or you hide from both sides for the rest of your life. Seems an easy choice to me."

Finally, after another pause so long I almost wondered if Malachi wasn't going to answer at all, he spoke, sounding very much like the rash teenager I had last known him as.

"Fuck it, what's the plan?"