Page 23 of Her Darkest Possession
Dr. Martinez finally leaves us alone to finish gathering my things. Several of Anatoly's men have appeared down the hall now.
Their presence is welcomed after everything that took place, but also stifling in its own way.
They're a constant reminder that this world is dangerous, and that even this unexpected joy can still turn into something bitter at a moment's notice.
"I'm going to make a call to check on security at the mansion," Anatoly says, brushing his lips against my forehead. "Will you be okay for a minute?"
I nod, and he steps into the hallway, his voice low as he speaks rapid Russian into his phone.
That's when I notice Marcus standing awkwardly by the door. Bags have gathered under his eyes. Gratitude pours into my heart when I see him. He's been here the whole time. The quiet guardian who's seen me at my worst twice now.
He approaches cautiously when he sees me looking at him.
"Just wanted to make sure you're good before I head out."
I try to smile but feel it wobble. "Marcus, I... I don't even know how to thank you."
"Don't need to, Indie." He shrugs.
"Yes, I do." I reach out and take his rough hand in mine. "You saved my life. My baby's life. You didn't have to do any of it."
His eyes soften slightly. "Course I did. That's what people do—they help each other."
"Not everyone," I say quietly, thinking of Lola, of Ryan, of all the people who've tried to hurt me. "Some people just take."
Marcus shifts his weight. "Well, I ain't one of them. And neither are you." He gives my shoulder a gentle pat. "You're gonna be alright. That man of yours." He nods toward the doorway where Anatoly is still on the phone. "He cares about you. I can see it."
"I know," I whisper, because I do know, even if neither of us has said the words out loud.
"Just promise me one thing," Marcus says, his voice gruff.
"What's that?"
"When that little one comes, you bring 'em by the shop. Let old Marcus give 'em their first haircut." His serious expression breaks into a rare, full smile.
I smile through sudden tears. "Deal."
I clutchAnatoly's hand as our car pulls into the mansion's familiar driveway. His fingers are warm, entwined with mine so tightly it's like he's terrified I might vanish if he loosens his grip even just a little.
I can't blame him.
The drive from the hospital was surprisingly calm. Anatoly pulled out all the stops and arranged a full convoy—three black SUVs ahead of us and two behind—to escort us home.
It should make me feel safe, but instead, my stomach churned with nervous energy all the way back.
"We're almost home," Anatoly murmurs, his thumb tracing circles against my skin.
Home.
I stare at the mansion as we approach, its grand silhouette looming larger with each passing second. I can't help but remember the first time I saw it when I was practically a prisoner, wondering what horrors awaited me inside its walls.
So much has changed since then.
I've changed. And so has Anatoly.
There's a life growing inside me. Life that the two of us made. And that knowledge alone is both precious and terrifying all at once.
"Are you alright?" He asks, his voice gentle.
