Complacent [Duplicity Niall]

Niall
I hadn't left the hospital. Not once.
Not when the others tried to get me to take a break. Not when Louis reminded me that I wasn’t a doctor and couldn’t do shit for her. Not even when security started giving me those wary glances, like I was some stray who’d made a home in the waiting room.

I stayed.

Because every time Madi’s eyes fluttered open—just for a second, just long enough to remember where she was and how much it fucking hurt—she was looking for something. Someone.

Me.

So I stayed.

And it worked.

Because today, they were letting her go.
She was still pale, her movements slow and careful as she got dressed, as Louis helped her into the wheelchair with the kind of gentleness that only came out when he was really worried. And Liam—he hovered, trying to be casual about it, but every time she winced, his hands twitched like he wanted to fix it.

Harry and Aven had left to get the bus ready. The ride to Nashville would be hell for her, but she was determined to get out of here.

And I?

I was walking her out.

But after that—

I had other shit to deal with.

Malakai had gotten word pretty quick that I had no intention of letting her anywhere near that bank job. That I had made sure it was off the table.

And he hadn’t been happy.

So I had a meeting to attend.

I wasn’t walking away from untouched.

The warehouse smelled like oil and rust and violence.

Malakai stood near the center, arms crossed, an amused expression tugging at his lips.

“You’ve been busy, Horan.”

I rolled my shoulders. “She’s out.”

“Yes, I heard. And yet, the job was canceled.”

I shrugged.

Malakai’s amusement didn’t waver. He gestured, and before I could really brace myself, hands were on me.
Shoving. Dragging. I didn’t fight it.

I didn’t fight it.

I took it.

Because this was the price.

A fist connected with my ribs first. A deep, ugly hit that knocked the wind out of me, but I didn’t make a sound.

Then another.

Then—

Crack.

Ribs. Probably.

I stumbled but stayed upright.

“She should be dead,” Malakai mused, watching. “You should be grateful.”

A fist slammed into my stomach, and this time I did drop to my knees, coughing.
Grateful. Right.

For a moment, the world tilted, spots clouding my vision. My body screamed at me to stay down.

But I pushed back up to my feet.

Malakai smiled. “Good lad.”

Then, the last hit—one to the jaw that sent me crashing back to the ground.
And that was when he finally spoke to me directly, crouching down beside me, voice low.

“This is me being merciful, Niall.”
I coughed, something thick and metallic filling my mouth.

Mercy.