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Not my face—my hands.

The bag.

His breath catches.

“Anissa.”

Just my name.

Matvei comes straight to me. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

A second vehicle screeches to a stop.

His father steps out.

"What is the meaning of this?" his father screams, taking in the sight of his wife on the ground, covered in blood. "Who shot her?"

Yana rolls her eyes. "I clipped her shoulder. It's a superficial wound. You’ll be able to wipe it with a piece of gauze." But then her voice lowers, ice-cold, her ruthless gaze settling on him like a blade. "But when you find out the truth of what happened, you're going to wish I did more than that."

* * *

Chapter28

MATVEI

I can’t fucking think straight.My mother’s bleeding, shot by my cousin, who’s implying that my mother’s done something. She came here, onto my property, without permission, bypassing my guards, so I can’t imagine her intentions were any good.

And Anissa… Anissa’s carrying a bag. A fucking bag.

My ears ring. Not from the gunshot, no, from the pressure building behind my temples like something’s going to snap.

The house is a cacophony of voices, the screech of tires, phone calls made, and harsh commands. Vadka meets me on the front lawn, takes one look at me, and nods to Rodion. “Irma’s going into our custody.” He looks at me apologetically. “I witnessed everything, brother.”

Rodion steps forward, composed. His look is deadly. Certain. “We’ll get her patched up. Then Rafail needs to hear it from us.”

“Rafail,” my mother spits. “The fucking usurper. The?—”

Yana is already moving. She grabs my mother by the hair and yanks her up like a rag doll. My father lunges, but I intercept him, slamming a hand into his chest. He fights me, but he’s weak, and I could snap him in half. I fucking want to.

“Those that speak of my brother with disrespect lose their tongue, Irma,” Yana says with cold derision. “Please. Give me a reason to never have to listen to you speak again. Say one more word.” With a flourish, she brandishes a slick knife.

My father growls and fights. “How dare you talk to her like that?” The guards step in. It’s all noise, the sounds of prey in their dying moments, caught in the grip of a hungry predator.

Rodion’s hand is on my shoulder. Heavy. Grounding.

“We’ll deal with this, brother.” He lowers his voice. “We can’t prove anything without the council’s collaboration, but the evidence is clear. Rafail won’t order the execution yet. But it’ll be permanent exile. And if she returns… it’s a kill order.”

That breaks something in me.

Then I see her… gripping the handle of the bag.

I walk to her—calm, controlled—as if I move too fast, she’ll run like a scared mouse.

She flinches when I reach her. I wrap an arm around her waist. “Are you alright?”

She nods, obviously shaken. “Yeah. I’m okay.” She reaches a hand to my cheek and searches my eyes. “Areyou?”

I feel like I’m not here, like I’m floating outside myself, watching the scene play out from a distance. My skin feels too tight. My breath too shallow. Everything inside me is splintering.