My hands curl into fists.
"Don’t ask her now," she warns. "Help her through this. And?—"
"Okay." Rafail steps forward, voice like steel. "Before you do fucking anything, you talk to me."
His eyes are sharp, unyielding. "We’re not in a position to start another war, Matvei." A beat passes. Then softer, "Not yet."
No, we're not, but that doesn't mean that I can’t seek vengeance anonymously. They don't need to know who I fucking am. But I need a lot more details before I do anything.
"I thought you'd wanna know," Polina says quietly. "Be gentle with her. That's excruciating pain."
I don't tell Polina that I already know this because I put my little witch through pain with my own damn hands. She fucking revels in it. Now she'scrying. I shake my head, wishing that I could find whoever did this to her and end it right now.
Rafail announces, "We'll talk later."
They leave, and before I go inside to Anissa, I need a fucking minute.
She's not pregnant.
There's no baby. Not this time, anyway.
I wait until I'm alone to brace my arm against the wall. I press my forehead to my arm and let out a ragged breath.
She's not pregnant.
God.
I told myself from the very beginning that I had to make her stay, that I had to ensure she could never escape me. If she carried my child, even if she ran, she’d never truly be free—she’d have a part of me inside her.
But now I know the truth. It was never just about that. The need to keep her goes deeper, far beyond blood, far beyond possession. With or without her, she belongs to me. And I won’t ever let her go.
She's my responsibility now.
It killed me to see her face contorted in pain.
And I need to make it better.
ThenI’ll find out who did this to her.
* * *
Chapter21
ANISSA
I drift off to sleep,and this time, I don't dream. Thank god.
If I have to relive that night one more fucking time…
I wake to hear Matvei on the phone. I don't know what he's talking about, but I can tell he's asking questions, and he keeps saying things like, "Okay, that's good to know. Perfect. Yeah, of course I can do that. Thank you."
When he comes to me a few minutes later, he's holding a tray in his hands.
"What is this?"
I sit up in bed, the pain still there but not as excruciating as before. The medication Polina gave me helped, and so did the heating pad.
"These are the foods you need right now," he says, his brows knit in consternation.