Page 52 of Her Darkest Possession

"You're afraid I'll become my father," I say quietly. It's not a question.

Her eyes soften. "I'm afraid of what killing your family would do to you. To us. To our child."

She's right, and I hate it. My father was the kind of man who didn't hesitate to hurt his children over a perceived slight. He didn't think twice about spilling family blood. And in the process, it left him so isolated that when mother finally had enough of his bullshit, there was no one left to stand with him.

"I can't just let them go unpunished," I tell her, my voice rough with frustration. "My mother threatened our unborn child. Vassily manhandled you. They crossed lines that can't be uncrossed."

Indigo nods, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on my chest. "I agree. There should be consequences. But not death."

I catch her hand, pressing it harder against my heart. "Then what? What punishment fits this crime?"

She's quiet for a moment, considering. "I don't know right now," she finally suggests. "But there must be something."

"We'll figure something out," I say. "Together."

"And for what it's worth," she adds hesitantly, "I think Vassily might actually regret what he did."

I raise an eyebrow skeptically.

"When he brought Amara back to the mansion," she explains, "he seemed... different. Almost sheepish. He couldn't meet my eyes."

Now that Indigo mentions it, I remember Vassily's strange behavior right before the rescue. How he tried to tell me that there's something I needed to know.

Was he trying to apologize for the part he played that resulted in Indigo's kidnapping?

And then during the rescue itself, he moved to protect Amara with his own body. He'd handled her gently, and with none of his usual lewdness.

Maybe Indigo is right.

"If there is regret in Vassily, we'll find out for certain," I say, my voice still hard despite Indigo's softening influence. "We'll find out tomorrow. Speak to him in person. Make him explain himself."

I run my hand through my hair, trying to imagine what Vassily might possibly say to justify his actions. The image of him dragging my wife into this room at my mother's command burns in my mind, threatening to reignite the rage I've just managed to contain.

"I think that's fair," Indigo says, her voice pulling me back from the edge. "People deserve a chance to explain themselves."

She's more forgiving than I am. It's one of the things I love about her—how she can see the humanity in monsters like me and my family. How she can still believe in redemption after everything she's been through.

"But," she adds, a firm edge entering her voice, "if he shows no remorse, or if he ever threatens me or our baby again..."

"Then we'll find a punishment fit for his crimes." I finish for her, relieved that her kindness has limits.

She nods, satisfied with our understanding. Then, as if deciding to set aside the heaviness of the moment, she slips her hand into mine. Her fingers are warm, delicate—a stark contrast to the violence that usually fills my palms.

"Now then." she says, her lips curving into a small smile. "Would you like to show me another room you have in mind for the nursery?"

The simple request tugs at something in my chest. This is Indigo—my wife—asking me to plan a future with her. To create a space for our child. Despite everything, she still wants this life with me.

"Yes," I reply, squeezing her hand gently. "I know the perfect room."

15

INDIGO

I sitbeside Anatoly in his office, perched on the edge of a leather chair that feels too big for me. My fingers twist together in my lap as we wait for Vassily to arrive. The room is quiet except for the steadyboom-doom-boom-doomof my heart beating in my chest and the occasional rustle as Anatoly shifts in his seat behind the massive desk.

"Nervous?" Anatoly breaks the silence.

I nod, not bothering to hide it. "A little."