Page 30 of Her Darkest Possession (Baryshev Bratva #2)

ANATOLY

In the dying light of a dull gray day, I stand back and survey the half-painted wall of what will soon be our child's nursery. Indigo and I opted on a light yellow that's neither too bright, nor too pale.

She insisted on doing this ourselves instead of having the staff handle it.

Now, watching her carefully edge along the ceiling in denim overalls with a streak of paint on her cheek, I understand why.

It really feels like we're building something together.

"You missed a spot," she says without looking at me.

"Just admiring the view." I dip my roller back in the paint tray.

She glances over her shoulder, a smile playing at her lips. "Careful. That's how we ended up on the dining table last night."

Heat rushes through me at the memory. Legs wrapped around my waist, plates pushed aside, and her gasping against my ear.

Both of us confessed our love for each other, over and over and over again.

And even then, it didn't feel like it was enough.

"Worth it," I say simply, returning to my section of wall.

Indigo steps down from her ladder and sets her brush aside. "I still can't believe we did that."

"Which part?" I ask. "The table or you telling me that this is the life that we'll live, and that we'll never go backwards from here."

"Both." She comes to stand beside me, leaning her head against my shoulder. "But one definitely felt more enjoyable than the other."

I kiss Indigo's forehead. "Are you excited about what we're in for?"

"I am," she says, and then then after a pause, adds. "But I'm also scared."

I wrap my arm around her shoulders. "We'll figure it out together," I tell her. "And we'll definitely have plenty of help."

This makes her smile. The mansion is fully staffed with people who would do anything for us, and whatever the staff can't handle on their own, we can always hire someone else to help.

But I know the logistics isn't what she's afraid of. It's about getting it right.

About raising a child in the bratva, and accepting that our child's future will always have the specter of violence and death and war hanging over his or her head.

It's not an easy thought.

"There's also something else I've been thinking about."

"What's that?"

"It's probably a silly idea now," she says, looking away.

"Nothing you want is silly," I say firmly. "Tell me."

She takes a deep breath. "When I was helping Amara finish up her essay to Columbia, I got this idea in my head.

.." She bites her lip. "That I'd like to go back to Columbia.

And I know last night I was the one who told you that there was no way for me to go back to a life before I met you.

But I'd be lying if I haven't been thinking about it ever since I left two years ago. "

"If that's what you want, then that's what you'll have." I feel my face break into a smile. "I can make it happen."

"But will there even be time once the baby comes?" she asks, her hand resting on her stomach. "I don't know if I can be a mother and a student at the same time."

"We'll find a way to make time," I say, meaning every word. "You deserve finish what you started, Indigo. Bratva queen or not."

"Finish what I started," she says and looks back at the paint drying on the wall.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the nursery door. I turn around and find Roma standing in the doorway. There's an alarmed look on his face, and his lips are pursed in a line.

"What's wrong?" I put down my paint roller.

He steps into the room and glances briefly at our half-finished walls before talking.

"Ryan Bennet is dead. "

"What?" This wasn't part of the plan, not even close. "How?"

"Not sure. But apparently he was pronounced dead in the hospital a few hours after I left the gift this morning."

Then, right on cue, my phone rings. It's Vassily.

"Chto?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady despite the sudden thundering of my heart.

"Cops are gearing up for a big operation." Vassily's voice is hushed, urgent. "They're coming to arrest you under suspicion of murdering Ryan Bennet. They'll be at the mansion in a little under an hour."

Fuck, they move fast.

"Thanks for the update, Vasya. Come home now."

I hang up and meet Indigo's questioning gaze. Her eyes are wide, the paint brush frozen in her hand.

"What is it?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The police are coming to arrest me for Ryan's murder."

"But you didn't do it!" Indigo puts down her brush, alarm spreading across her face. "You were with me all night. We can tell them—"

"It doesn't matter whether I did or not," I say, cutting her off gently. "They won't give a shit."

I look around at the half-painted nursery—our vision for the future suddenly interrupted. The yellow walls that were supposed to welcome our child now feel like a distant dream.

"What are you going to do?" Indigo asks.

I run my hand through my hair, thinking fast. "I'll have to go with them."

"What?" Indigo's face pales. "You're just going to let them take you?"

"For now." I step closer to her, keeping my voice calm despite the storm brewing inside me. "I can't fight the cops. That would only make things worse."

Indigo grabs my arm, her fingers digging into my sleeve. "Then I'm coming with you. I can testify that you were with me all night."

"No." My tone leaves no room for argument. "Absolutely not."

"But—"

"Listen to me." I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. "I'll be fine. But I can't promise that you'll be safe if you come with me. The police can't be trusted right now and I will not risk putting you in harm's way."

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, but I see the fierce determination behind them.

Then, she nods. "Okay."

"Vassily will be back soon," I continue. "He'll rally the guards here, and make sure the mansion is locked down tight in case anyone wants to take their chance attacking here while I'm gone. No one will get to you."

"Do you think this is Lola's doing?" Indigo asks, her voice hardening at the mention of that name.

"It can only be her. With Ryan dead after that confrontation yesterday, it's the easiest way for her and her father to turn the entire city against me. Gives them a lot more room to maneuver."

I turn to Roma, who's still standing silently by the door. "Gather everything you can to prove I was here all night. As many witness statements from as many people here as you can."

Roma shifts uncomfortably. "Witness statements from your wife and the staff won't mean much to the cops right now. They'll want hard evidence."

Fuck!

He's right.

If the police are coming in force, then they've already made up their minds.

We'll need to provide them with as much physical evidence as we can.

That means things like security recordings from the mansion showing me coming home.

Security cameras showing Ryan was alive when I came home.

More video evidence that I didn't leave the house.

And that comes with its own risks.

I don't want to hand that information over to the cops, especially when I have no idea which cops I can even trust.

But if I don't hand that information over, then there's no way back to Indigo.

No way back home.

That fucking Ryan.

That useless idiot allowed himself to be manipulated by Lola this entire time. He played his willing part for her schemes without ever realizing that she was grooming him to die at the right moment.

Like a prized pig to slaughter.

And now because of his stupidity, Lola has gotten enough of an upper hand to make my life a living hell.

Roma clears his throat. "Should I start assembling the evidence now?"

I look back at Indigo. Her chin is raised. Determination is written across her face. And when I see that determination, I can't help but feel the fact that if she can come back to me against all odds, then I can do this for her.

There's no setback that will hold us apart.

Not this time.

Not anymore.

"Yes," I turn back and face Roma. "Go gather the evidence.

Get the security camera footage showing I was here all night.

Send them every angle if you have to. What matters is that the evidence is ironclad.

Once you have that, send everything to Kaufman in triplicate copy.

Physical and digital. We can't risk this information not reaching him. "

Roma nods. "I'll get it done."

He walks out and I'm left alone with Indigo and the half-painted nursery walls.

I turn to her, cupping her face in my hands. "I'll be back. I promise."

This time, there's doubt nor hesitation in her soft hazel eyes. She believes me completely.

"When you come back," she says, her voice steady and strong, "we'll finish painting this room. We'll finish fighting this war. We'll make Lola and Taras and the rest of the Volkovs pay for everything they've done."

"You are mine." She grabs my wrists. "Just as I am yours. And I won't let anyone take you away from me."

"Nor would I let anyone separate us ever again," I tell her, my voice low and fierce. "I promise."

I pull her to me for a fierce kiss, claiming her mouth with mine. She returns the kiss with equal intensity, her fingers tightening against my arms to pull me closer.

There's desperation in the way we hold each other. Both of us know what's coming. And both of us steal what little moments we can still have before that uncertainty arrives.

Her body presses flat against mine, as soft and warm as it has always been since that first night when she stopped fighting what was between us.

As her tongue sweeps into my mouth, I breathe her in, letting the little particles of her scent settle so deep in my lungs that I know I'll never get them out.

My hand moves down her back to memorize the shape of her curves, and the warmth of her skin. This is what I'll hold onto in the hours ahead.

We stay locked together like this, neither willing to be the first to break the kiss or let the other go. The half-painted nursery walls surround us, at times promising us a future that we've built together and the other, and at times cruelly reminding us that the future is not yet here.

Indigo moans and gasps against my mouth as she presses herself even closer to me. The same desperation to commit the moment to memory that burns through me also burns in her.

The kiss grows stronger. My hands grip her waist harder, pulling her close to me until all space disappears between us.

I don't ever want to let her go.

Something wet touches my cheek. Salt mingles on my tongue as our lips remain locked together, and I realize Indigo is crying.

I pull back just enough to look at her face, my thumb gently wiping at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

She blinks fiercely, trying to force the wetness away, as if acknowledging her tears might make everything more real.

Our eyes meet and lock. No words pass between us, but I understand everything she's feeling as I look upon the storm of emotions swirling in her eyes.

And beneath the rippling tears, there's steel beneath the surface.

I feather my thumb across the corner of her eyes to wipe away the drops as her fingers rises to trace the lines on my face.

A soft knock at the door breaks the moment.

We turn to see one of the household staff, standing there in the doorway. Her eyes are respectfully lowered, and her face is lined with worry.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Anatoly Stepanovich," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "But a Detective Tyler Webb is here with several officers. They're waiting in the foyer."

I feel Indigo stiffen in my arms, but when I look down at her, I see no fear in her eyes—only fierce determination.

"I have to go now," I tell her, brushing my thumb across her lower lip.

"I know," she says. Her voice doesn't waver. "I'll be here when you come back."

It's not a question. It's a statement of absolute certainty.

I nod once, pressing one final kiss to her forehead.

"I'll be back."

When I step into the foyer, I see a gruff-looking detective in a rumpled suit flanked by several uniformed officers. Through the open front door, I can see the flashing lights of multiple police cruisers lining my driveway.

"I'm Detective Tyler Webb," he says. "Anatoly Baryshev, you are under arrest for the suspected murder of Ryan Bennet."

"I understand, Detective," I reply evenly.

"You have the right to remain silent," he starts reciting the familiar phrases.

But it's not his words that I'm paying attention to. As I stare at his face, I notice that there's no hatred there, no personal vendetta. Only a measured gaze of a man doing his job.

Something tells me that I'm facing one of the rare cops in this city who still actually believes in justice and fairness.

It doesn't mean that he like me. In fact, that belief of his might even lead to him despising me. But that dislike isn't personal.

It's simply because I'm a criminal.

I respect that.

It's certainly far better than the corrupt cops who hate me because they're paid to hate me by my enemies, or the ones who hate me because they think I ought to pay them more.

I hold out my hands, wrists together. "Shall we?"

Webb's eyes narrow slightly. "Nothing to say, Mr. Baryshev?"

"I'll let my lawyer speak for me when we reach the precinct."

Webb holds my gaze for a long moment. He wipes his thumb across his lips as he assesses me. Then he nods to one of the officers, who steps forward with handcuffs.

The cold metal clicks around my wrists, and a moment later, I'm being guided towards the door.

When we step outside, I spot Vassily's black Mercedes screeching to a halt at the end of the driveway. He jumps out, face twisting in anger as he strides toward us.

"This is some fucking bullshit!" Vassily snaps, glaring at Webb and the officers.

"Vasya!" I call out sharply. "Your place is here."

"But they can't just—"

"They can, and they have." I can't help but smile a little. "This is the hand that I've been dealt, and it is the hand I must play. Stay here. Keep everyone safe. Ponimayesh?"

"I do," he says. "And I will. I promise."

"Molodets."

I turn for one last look inside my home. There, standing in the shadows of the hallway, is Indigo. Her silhouette is unmistakable and her stance remains defiant even from this distance.

I give her a single, firm nod—a promise that I'll return—then duck my head and slide into the waiting car.