Page 144 of His Darkest Obsession

And then, clarity strikes me like a bolt of lightning.

It doesn't matter ifIlove Anatoly or not. It doesn't matter if he loves me.

What matters is the fact that our child will be born into this violent world.

And that once born into it, that child willneverescape.

Will they turn out to be like their father? Like their uncles? Like their aunt? Or like me?

Can I protect them from the cruelty of this world when I can't even protect myself from it?

The thoughts continue to swirl as Anatoly takes one measured step after another towards me.

As he gets closer, I can smell the metallic scent of blood on him.

My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I wonder if everyone can hear it.

Tell him now! Tell him! He needs to know! You want him to know!

But I can't speak. I can't breathe.

Not even when he reaches the door and I start backing away.

Not even when he walks in.

And not even after he closes it behind him.

45

INDIGO

The door clicks shutbehind him. Anatoly stands there, his bloody hands hanging at his sides, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

"It's done," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "I killed Grant Bennet."

Something inside me snaps, and my tongue finally comes unglued from the roof of my mouth. "You had no right to do that."

His eyes narrow dangerously. "I'm tired of people telling me I have no right to do this or that. The bratva, my mother, Roma..." His voice rises with each word.

And just like that, my own rage ignites, hot and indignant. "You're tired of people telling you what you can and can't do? What about me? Did you ever think about that?"

"Everything I've done has been for you," he growls.

"No," I shake my head violently. "You don't get to decide what justice looks like for me. You don't get to hurt people and use me as an excuse for it."

"As far as I'm concerned," he says, "I haveeveryright to hurt the people who hurt you."

"No, you don't!" I scream, my voice breaking.

"He raped you!" Anatoly bellows. "He put his fucking hands on you. Put his fucking baby in you and then forced you to an abortion to hide his guilt! Do you really think I'll just allow him to live?"

"And do you think telling me aboutmypast justifies what you've done?"

His words slice through me like knives, ripping open wounds I've spent two years trying to close. I wrap my arms protectively around my middle, where another baby now grows.

I want to throw it in his face. That he's done the same thing, put his baby inside me too. But it's not the same, is it?

I chose this.