Chapter 29
ANISSA
Matvei leans in, cups the back of my head, and whispers low and dangerous, “Unpack your fucking bag.”
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?”
I sigh and nod. Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought.
He shakes his head. “You think I only want what you could give me?”
He pulls me closer, his forehead pressed to mine. My heart aches. His eyes are pure fire.
“ Fuck , woman . ”
Tears roll down my cheeks. “I thought—” I shake my head. “All this time, you’ve talked about getting me pregnant, having a baby. And then I saw why. I felt that.”
His face twists with anguish and anger. My heart aches. He’s lost a sister and a brother and just found out his own mother betrayed him. And I… decided to run.
His breath catches. “This is my fault. I own this. I haven’t shown you enough how much you mean to me.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You mean fucking everything to me. I heard what that bastard did to you, and I had to avenge you, now. I should’ve been more patient. I should have stayed.” He shakes his head. “I never should’ve left you to be assaulted by my asshole of a mother. Never. I’m sorry, Anissa. Forgive me.”
I nod, swimming in a well of emotion that hits me in waves. His eyes meet mine, unrelenting. On fire.
“I choose you. Not what you can give me. You’re mine. ”
He holds me and lets me cry. Cradles the back of my neck with a gentleness I didn’t know he could give and I didn’t know I needed. He wraps his hand around my waist as if trying to fuse the two of us together.
I try to speak, but the words are stuck in my throat. My vision’s blurred. I taste salt and shame as a half sob breaks from me. I try to hold it in and fail.
“I want you. Not some fucking fantasy. Not some goddamn bloodline. Me, of all people, should know how fucked up that shit is. If I ever have a family, it’ll be with you. Even if it’s just us. We’ll figure it out. But you, Anissa? I choose you.”
I can hardly think straight when he says in a low, dangerous growl, “If you ever think of leaving again, I’ll chain you to the bed and make you take your meals in your fucking cage.”
He leans in. “And I am definitely branding you.”
I shiver. The word makes my stomach clench. I shouldn’t want something so brutal, so vicious, but the craving inside says otherwise.
Still, I cling to him, my heart pounding. “You’re crazy .”
“As if you’re perfectly sane.”
Right now, I’m still broken, still raw.
“God, Matvei,” I say. I drop my head to his shoulder. I try fruitlessly to ignore the way this feels like blessed relief. “Do you guys ever do anything normal and boring?”
He kisses my forehead and pulls me to his chest. “Semyon plays chess…”
“And you and Rodion probably drag race high.”
“Don’t knock it til you try it.”
We’re trying and testing—my snark and his sarcasm—but it feels tired and heavy. Uncertain.
I sigh. “If I try to leave again, will you really chase me?”
“Chase you?” His voice drops, low and calm. “I’d burn the fucking world to the ground to find you.”
My chest aches, my eyes sting, and my nose tingles.
I believe him. That’s the problem. And worse? I want him to mean it.
I should walk away. I should fight him again, tell him no one gets to chain me. But instead, I lean in.
I press my forehead to his chest, letting myself breathe in his scent. “This is complicated,” I whisper.
His arms tighten like steel bands. “Doesn’t have to be.”
For a moment, the world stops spinning, and it’s just… us. No Bratva. No Irish. No escape routes and betrayal, no demand to be any more than we are.
His hand slides beneath the hem of my shirt, resting on bare skin. The rough, warm feel of his palm sends a calm through me.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. He doesn’t ask me for what.
I’m sorry your family sucks.
I’m sorry mine does too.
I’m sorry I’m broken.
I’m sorry you are too.
“Me too,” he finally whispers back. His hand isn’t gentle or cruel, just certain, branded heat, his words against my ear. “You can’t run, Anissa. Because I will always fucking find you.”
I close my eyes because I realize then—I want him to.
“Our families are fucked up.”
“Yeah.” The sun has set, but we haven’t turned any lights on. Sometimes, it’s easier to face the truth in the dark. “We’ll make our own family. We can, you know.”
I swallow hard, still leaning against him, still relishing the certain feel of his palm against my back.
“We can… what ?”
“Do better. Break the chain.”
I can’t help but smile. “Break the cycle of generational trauma with therapy and positive life choices?”
“Jesus,” he says with a grimace. “I wouldn’t go that far. You do know who I am, don’t you?”
I’m deflecting, as usual, joking even though I know there’s an undercurrent of truth.
Break the chain.
Yeah. I like that.
I nod, a smile emerging through the tears. “You’re the man I ran from.” I press my palm to his chest. “And the only one I ever wanted to catch me.”
He leans in and kisses my forehead. The brush of his warm lips makes the ache in my chest ease a little. “Inside, little ghost. We need a quiet evening at home.”
I tip my head up. “Does a quiet evening at home involve?—”
“Whatever you want it to?” he interrupts. “Absolutely.”
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