The streetlight flickers above him, casting Malakai in half-shadow. He leans against his bike, arms crossed, tattoos dark against his skin.

Then he hears it—your footsteps.

He doesn’t need to look. “Tch. You.”

You stop a few feet away. Silent. Watching.

He turns his head slightly, eyes cold and unreadable. “Didn’t expect the Council to send you.” A bitter laugh. “Guess they’re still into bad ideas.”

You still say nothing.

He steps forward, slow. Controlled.

“Not even a hello?” His voice drops. “Still wearing that look… like I’m the villain in your story.”

A pause. His gaze lingers.

“I never stopped looking for you.”