Page 64 of Anorthic Anarchy

I brush back the hair from her face and hold her cheeks. “Because Iknowyou. You’ve been nauseous ever since the gelato four days ago. You blamed the chefs for poisoning your food. You cried at the dead bird we found yesterday in the woods. And you won’t. Stop. Rushing to the restroom. It’s positive. And even if it’s not, we’ll deal. I’ll go fuck you again right now. Although…I may do that anyway.”

She smiles and gets up, then helps me stand. I try to suppress a groan as my bones stretch. If it did, I wouldn’t hear the end of her old man jokes.

Twirling in a circle, she holds the stick up and giggles. “Positive!” Elation fills me as my arms grab her waist, spinning her through the air as she nuzzles my neck.

“My angel’s pregnant with my baby.”

Her feet kick as she seeks the floor, and when I set her down, I hug her tightly to me. I need her to understand just how much of this feeling wants to purge from my body and surround her. “I love you, Astrid. I do.”

She stumbles a step back as wetness coats her cheeks. The smile spread across her face is pure, radiating lightness. But suddenly, it drops. “What if it’s not a boy?”

“Who the fuck cares? We just need it to be born.”

A furrow develops on her brow. “For revenge, you mean.”

Confused why she’d say that, I tell her flatly, “Yes.”

“Vincente, do you ever want to save the city? For its people? For your future?”

It strikes me as humorous, that maybe she’s being funny. A huffed laugh leaves my lungs, but then halts when she doesn’t show any signs of whimsy. “No.”

Her thumbs rub at her cheeks, and she sniffs, then straightens her shoulders. “Forourfuture?”

A sad smile forms on my lips and my eyelid twitches. Gripping her shoulders, I pull the little girl into me and rock her. “You and that baby are my priorities.”

Her mouth pressed into my chest muffles her voice as she says, “For vengeance.”

My ears heat from irritation. “I thought you understood what this was, Astrid. You said you were my angel…”

Vaulting her shoulders back and forth, she squirms from my hold. “I need some air.”

A growl escapes as I watch her toss on a sweatshirt and my pajama pants, then leave the bedroom. Grinding my teeth, I run my hands through my hair. I’ve been very plain about my goal here. And why this baby is necessary. Her delusions about some selfless love and a white picket fence make me feel ancient. More so than my achy joints.

Sev knocks on my door, and I hurry to open it. His bushy eyebrows raise at me, and I tilt my head. “We had a spat. Follow her, but keep your distance. She needs to cool off and make sure she gets back toourbed within an hour. Maybe get her some warm milk and let her complain about me.”

Pushing past him, I make it to the second story. Dilan stands in her night robe down the hall as she peeks out from her room. She looks like she’s going to scold me without even moving a muscle in her face. “Anything I need to do, sir?”

My belly tightens as I loosen my jaw. I stroll toward my mistress. Stroking my stubble, I let the hairs tickle the back of my hand as I stare at the floor in front of her.

Lifting my face up to meet hers, she freezes at my expression. The moisture in my eyes carries some cavernous emotion, perhaps regret or sadness, but I take a deep breath and will it away.

“Astrid is with child.”

Her cheeks hollow out as she swallows roughly. Otherwise, not an inch of movement occurs.

“So, it’s time.” Clearing my throat, I say it with finality. “Time for you to go to church.”

“But she could still miscarry, sir. Or something… Do you not want to wait? Wait until we’resure?”

“By the time the Winter Solstice occurs, I’ll know for certain. But the plans should be in place now. You’ll go to church. And Falcon will follow soon.”

“Sir…you-you’re certain?”

Pressing my palm to her cheek, I nod slowly.

She shatters.

A desperate sob rips from her chest, and she falls to the ground, weeping. Standing over her crumpled figure, I close my eyes and think back on everything I have been through with her since we were young. The wails turn to laughter as her back shakes. It’s a cry of relief.

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