Page 20

MATVEI

I stare at Polina.

"What the fuck are you telling me?"

When her eyes grow hard, I have to remind myself—I’m talking to the wife of my boss. He’ll fucking cut my tongue out if I disrespect her.

I blow out a breath. “Sorry. It’s not you I’m mad at.”

Rafail stands behind her, watching me. Tense.

He’ll kick my ass if I disrespect her, and I’ll have no choice but to let him.

"Listen, I’m not a medical professional," she says, "but I know them. And we are going to get her in with someone."

I nod tightly. "I know. We’re going to find someone we can trust."

"Absolutely," she says. "But I’m telling you this because I know how you operate, and I know if that were me in that bed, Rafail would want to know the truth."

My jaw tightens. "What truth? I want you to spell it out for me."

Rafail growls behind her. "Say please."

Jesus fucking Christ. Am I eighteen again?

I grit my teeth. "Please."

Polina doesn’t flinch.

"What she’s experiencing right now is sometimes related to a genetic condition, like endometriosis or something similar," she says. "But she told me she has scar tissue. Do you know where scar tissue comes from?"

Of course I fucking do. I grunt. "Surgery. Injuries"

"Sometimes, yes. People do have scar tissue from surgery." She levels her gaze at me. "But you also get scar tissue from an injury that hasn’t healed."

I frown.

Why would Anissa have scar tissue that would cause her to bleed heavily during her period?

How would someone get scar tissue that?—

And then it hits me.

Like a freight train.

Like a gunshot to the fucking chest.

I go momentarily blind with the realization.

"You mean—" My voice is barely a rasp. "Someone fucking did this to her?"

She takes a step toward me.

"Lower your voice."

I inhale sharply, struggling for control.

"I don’t know for a fact," she says. "But it’s a definite possibility. It’s something you need to look into."

My hands curl into fists.

"Don’t ask her now," she warns. "Help her through this. And?—"

"Okay." Rafail steps forward, voice like steel. "Before you do fucking anything, you talk to me."

His eyes are sharp, unyielding. "We’re not in a position to start another war, Matvei." A beat passes. Then softer, "Not yet."

No, we're not, but that doesn't mean that I can’t seek vengeance anonymously. They don't need to know who I fucking am. But I need a lot more details before I do anything.

"I thought you'd wanna know," Polina says quietly. "Be gentle with her. That's excruciating pain."

I don't tell Polina that I already know this because I put my little witch through pain with my own damn hands. She fucking revels in it. Now she's crying . I shake my head, wishing that I could find whoever did this to her and end it right now.

Rafail announces, "We'll talk later."

They leave, and before I go inside to Anissa, I need a fucking minute.

She's not pregnant.

There's no baby. Not this time, anyway.

I wait until I'm alone to brace my arm against the wall. I press my forehead to my arm and let out a ragged breath.

She's not pregnant.

God.

I told myself from the very beginning that I had to make her stay, that I had to ensure she could never escape me. If she carried my child, even if she ran, she’d never truly be free—she’d have a part of me inside her.

But now I know the truth. It was never just about that. The need to keep her goes deeper, far beyond blood, far beyond possession. With or without her, she belongs to me. And I won’t ever let her go.

She's my responsibility now.

It killed me to see her face contorted in pain.

And I need to make it better.

Then I’ll find out who did this to her.

* * *