Page 43 of Anorthic Anarchy

A silver tray holding the water kettle and cups sits out on the short coffee table in front of a leather sofa. Amalthea nods at her guards and they each take a spot surrounding it, though she continues to bore lasers at me from the corner.

Falcon stands in the other, her hawk eyes never departing from the enemy.

With an air of nonchalance, I slump into a wing-backed armchair and pick up a mug, pinching the cold porcelain between my thumb and forefinger. My eyebrows raise at theowl, then at the chair next to me until she huffs a breath and gracefully sits. The guards across from me are not important. In fact, I remember a few of them working with Morozov, who used to work for me before the bear killed them. They were the ones who escaped the incident during their exchange.

A small wooden spoon holds the loose-leaf in a bowl, and I scoop some out into their mugs, then pour the water over until it steams. All eyes in the room study me carefully, probably watching to make sure I don’t reach for the handgun tucked in my waistband. But if I hurt Amalthea, none of my bombs could stop the carnage they would throw at me and my household. It’s not time for that. Yet.

Amalthea waves off the offer when I pass her a cup. “Bourbon, then?” I ask.

“No, Vladimir, son of Strauss.” Her black eyes scan her men. One takes a cup and sips, then the others. “I came to discuss your bride.”

Sitting back against my chair, I spread my arms over the cushioned rests and cross my legs. “Yes?”

Her black hair dances as she shakes her head. “We’ll be taking her unless you wish to die here and now. You can cooperate and stay in your position until she gives us a male heir. Or not obey, and we will end things accordingly.”

They need my name as scapegoat for their plans until they have a replacement for consort who they’ll raise to submit to their will. Even if they take Astrid, they’d have to wait for several months for their baby to be born and then have one of the Johns act as counsel until the child would come of age. After that, my wife would be strung up and leaked of her blood continuously to feed their addictions.

But if she had my child within her already, they wouldn’t want to spill her blood unless it was part of a ritual…at a specified time to sacrifice to their made-up gods.

They can’t kill her. They need her womb, too.

That’s my advantage. As long as she’s here, they won’t harm me.

I think.

Two fingers peak under my chin as I devise my next plan, but a small movement on the second story catches my eye. My stomach twists into a knot, but I control my rate of breathing and expression when I spy my wife peeking over the railing to watch the meeting. I won’t give her position away, but terror grips me like a vise, hoping Amalthea doesn’t spot her.

“Well, it will be quite difficult for you to give her an heir when she’s already pregnant with a Strauss.”

Amalthea’s jaw tightens, and her guards glance at her, setting their cups down. “Is that so?”

Blinking rapidly, my grin spreads wide across my lips. “Yes. You should come to the baby shower.”

“Then we’ll rip it out of her on Winter Solstice.” Amalthea nods at her guards, and I still every muscle I own, hoping this isn’t the end for me. I think I must be having a heart attack, but give nothing away. Please. Not yet… Not before she’s carrying my child.

One of the guards stands with his hand clawing at his throat. The other clutches his chest while croaking out a groan. Amalthea rises and stares at them as they each drop to the floor, the third pulling out his gun and pointing it at me, but Falcon shoots him in the forehead before he can finish what he was about to do.

Gasping for air, the large men groan and roll on the floor, attempting to get the deadly nightshade out of their systems. “So…baby shower?” I ask the owl as she gapes at me. “You’re unprotected now. Alone.”

“You know if you try to hurtme, Herodius will end all of you.”

“So make your move.” Her thick lips close as she stares at me in exasperation. “But you won’t. You know why you won’t?” Feeling bolder, I calm my heart rate and spit the words out. “Because I hold the last Barrington. And she holds my heir. An attack on this house is an attack on your precious snake, which youneed. So run and tell the Johns to leave our happy family in peace.”

She steps into me, her thick bosom pressing into my chest. I hold my breath to avoid her overly musky scent. “We’ll take her and abort it.”

Without a blink, I narrow my eyes, holding her fierce gaze with my own. I could reach out and snatch that skinny throat. Snap her neck in two. She knows. But I can’t. Not if I want to take revenge on everyone who stole my mother from me.

“No, you won’t. Not yet anyway. It’s not time for that.” I’m not as ignorant as she seems to think. Theyneedtheir rituals. No one will spill a drop of Astrid’s blood or risk an abortion until their gods say so. Time is what I have in my favor, even if it’s not much.

But if they take her from me and find out she’s not pregnant…I’ll have no chance before they impregnate her with someone else’s seed. I’ll lose everything.

A sharp breath shoots from her nose as she steps back from me. Sev monitors her movements, and I nod at him to escort her out of the house. Off my fucking property.

Falcon hurries to the bodies to inspect them, but my eyes trail upward to the little girl with her hand over her mouth. Her blue eyes hold fear, probably just as much as mine. She gets it now.

Taking the steps two at a time, I race up to meet her, Dilan passing me to help Falcon. Grabbing my wife by the shoulders, I pull her closer. Neither of us speaks, but her chest rises quickly as her breathing accelerates. Mine does the same.

Ever-so-slowly, she nods at me, as if her thoughts match my own. “We better hurry,” she says.

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