Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Something inside me snaps. I don’t move right away, just stare at him. His chest is rising and falling, and it looks like he’s barely keeping himself in check. I’m the spark to his tinder; one false move, and he’ll ignite.
“Anissa.” My name sounds like a warning.
And god help me—just as before, I don’t want to run. Not from here. Not from his family. Not from him.
“Matvei.” My voice is choked from barely held emotion. What could have happened just now—what did.
He narrows his eyes at me.
“Go ahead. Run, little witch. I’ll give you a head start. Mount your broom and fly far, far away from here. I’ll drag you back by your hair, put you back in your cage, and throw away the key.”
“You don’t understand, Matvei.” My voice shakes. “Your mother was right. I’m not—”
“Don’t.” His voice is deadly calm. “Don’t quote that fucking woman to me. She’s nothing. She’s done. And what she said about you, about us, means nothing.”
My lip trembles, but I won’t cry, not now.
“Look at you, being all brave,” he says with pride. “So brilliant. So perfect. A little ghost until I dragged you out of hiding.” He leans in, his voice brooking no argument, the wall to my dam. I’m shaking as he enunciates each syllable. “Un. Pack. Your. Bag. Now.”
I draw in a quick breath. Unpacking that bag will be a concession.
I glance up at him. He’s watching me as if he already knows I’m going to do exactly what he says.
I kneel. The zipper’s broken, the contents spilling on the floor.
One by one, I start pulling things out.
I’m a failure. I’ve escaped warlords, Bratva, entire syndicates. I’ve walked through fire and emerged unscathed.
I can’t escape one man?
Sweatshirt, passport. Toothbrush, cards. The backup IDs I forged weeks ago.
My hands tremble. My chest is too tight. My heart aches.
Every time I set something on the floor, it feels like I’m removing a strip of armor.
I feel him behind me. Watching. Waiting. Simmering.
When I’m done, I rise slowly. I don’t turn to face him yet; I can’t.
“Done?” His voice is raw and possessive, calm water to mask the churning anger.
I nod. “For now.”
He’s behind me in seconds, his hands curling around my waist. His chest presses to my back before he spins me around to look at him. He tilts my chin up, searching my face, as if demanding the truth from my gaze before my words.
“Say it, Anissa. Tell me that you’re mine.”
He wants the words, but if I say them, I can’t take them back. If I say them, I belong to him—no more escape plans. No more exits.
Just him. Just us. Just this.
So I don’t give him what he wants right away. How can it be true? How?
I’ve never belonged to anyone before. I never believed I could. He’s not just asking for possession. He’s offering everything.
And it terrifies me.
I should tell him no one gets to claim me. That if I want to walk away…
“I can’t be yours, Matvei.” I hang my head. This is where it ends. This is where he sees it, what I’ve always feared—I’m not enough.
With a brutal tug, he spins me around to look at him, his hand beneath my chin. “Like fuck, you can’t.” His eyes gleam with possession, his grip immovable.
I press my forehead to his chest, letting myself breathe in his scent.
I stumble over my words. I need to say it out loud.
“I can’t give you children, Matvei. I know. I-I watched the video.”
“What video?” he asks, deadly quiet, the kind that makes my heart thump harder.
“The-the promise you made. About your vow to uphold. To Rafail—”
He doesn’t let me finish but grabs my jaw gently but firmly and makes me look at him.
“You watched it,” he says slowly. “And then you decided, on your own, without a single fucking word to me, that we were done? That you were going to run?”
I blink. A tear rolls down my cheek.
I try to pull back, but he holds me there, fierce and immovable.
“Do you think I would’ve walked away?” His voice breaks. “That I would’ve just let you go? That I’m that fucking shallow?” His hand tightens on me to the point of hurting. I want him to hold me even harder.
“I—” My voice trembles. I can’t finish the sentence. He’s right. I did decide I was going to run.
“You assumed. You decided. You came up with this world in your head where I didn’t want you if you couldn’t have children?”
When he says it like that, my heart thuds. My throat tightens.
Maybe I didn’t want to face rejection again. Maybe I don’t know what it means to be safe. Maybe I want something real.
I don’t want to run anymore.
I want to be caught.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I… didn’t want to hurt you.”
He quirks a brow, stern and unyielding, and I can hardly bear to look at him. “You thought running from me would be better than telling me the truth?”