Chapter 141: We have to try

I locked eyes with him, waiting. I needed to know how far his darkness would have gone.

"I couldn’t let you go," Magnus rasped, his eyes burning with raw confession. "Just looking at you tore my soul apart. Knowing you’d be somewhere far away felt like my bones were splintering inside me. Even under the heavy drugs they pumped into my system, I couldn’t walk away from you.

I was convinced you had betrayed me. I believed every lie they fed me. I was consumed by rage and agony—but even then, I couldn’t let you go. You were supposed to be transferred to my private estate that very night. Jane, I would never have harmed you. My body was desperately fighting off the toxins, and by the time I was racing after your ambulance, the drugs were wearing off. By the time I reached the hospital, my mind was clear. Except for the brutal reality that you were gone."

I searched his face, hanging on every word, and felt not a single shred of deceit. Nose to nose with him, I noticed the fine lines etched around his eyes—flaws that betrayed five long years of sleepless nights, unravelling nerves, and sheer torment.

"Fine," I whispered. "We’ll go with you."

***

"Have you lost your damn mind, Jane?! What the hell are you thinking?!"

Askold paced his study like a caged beast, unable to sit still, his fury so thick it pressed physically against the walls.

"Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Once you set foot in the Upper District, there’s no turning back! If something goes wrong, I won’t be able to pull you out a second time! I won’t be able to protect you!"

"I understand, Askold," I said softly, keeping my tone steady. "But he truly regrets his mistakes. Matthias is already drawn to him, and..." I trailed off, leaving my own feelings unsaid. It was written all over my face anyway. "Askold, please try to understand. We were bound to cross paths eventually. Danger exists everywhere. But I want to try."

Askold dropped heavily into his chair, lacing his fingers together and resting his forehead against his hands.

"I don’t get it..." he muttered, his voice strained. "Jane, he’s a monster. You don’t know a single thing about what he’s done over these last five years. The atrocities he’s committed..."

I had a fair idea of what my brother was hinting at. But if I was going to hear the truth, I wanted to hear it directly from Magnus. Five years was a massive gulf of time, and I trusted that he would eventually lay it all bare for me. I could see why Askold viewed him as a monster—perhaps an even more dangerous one than the Magnus of five years ago.

After all, he had never been a good man.

"Askold, of all people, you should be the one to understand him."

It was a low blow, and I knew it. I knew how deeply he burned with longing for his own wife, how much of his soul was consumed by the endless search for her—a search made exponentially harder now that his access to the Upper District was completely severed.

"I do understand," Askold murmured, his expression hardening. "But you are my sister, Jane. I’m terrified for you. Do you get that?"

"I know. Truly, I do," I replied softly. "But we have to try."

"If anything goes wrong—if he steps out of line even once—promise me you will call," he demanded, locking his gaze onto mine, refusing to let go until he heard the words.

"Of course. I promise."

I stepped out of the study and instantly flinched under the weight of a piercing gray gaze. Magnus was leaning against the corridor wall directly opposite the door, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His posture was rigid, wired—a coiled predator ready to detonate at the slightest provocation.

"We need to pack our things and talk to Matthias," I said softly.

Before the last word could fully leave my lips, I was hauled flush against his chest, wrapped in an iron embrace. I couldn’t tell whose heart was hammering with such wild, frantic speed—mine, or his.

***

No matter how hard we tried to wake Matthias, our efforts predictably failed. He was sleeping so deeply that even if Magnus and Askold had leveled the entire manor and half the district, my son would have done nothing more than crinkle his nose and roll onto his other side.

He was notoriously difficult to wake once he drifted off, but now his body was recovering and demanding every drop of rest it could harvest. While he slept, I packed his clothes and essentials, leaving the toys in his bedroom untouched; Magnus quietly carried the bags down to the waiting vehicles.

When I started packing my own belongings, Magnus settled into an armchair to watch. The moment he noticed me struggling to reach a high shelf or straining to shift a piece of furniture, he would rise without a word and take care of it himself. Always in heavy, deliberate silence.

His scorching gaze burned between my shoulder blades, sending electric sparks cascading clear down to my fingertips. His presence pulled an invisible, thrumming tether tight between us; I could track every single step he took with my skin alone. It made me uselessly clumsy.

Every time I brushed past him, his proximity set me ablaze. Whenever I stood on tiptoe to reach for an overhead box, he was already hovering behind me, the radiant heat of his massive chest searing my back.

It was exquisite torture.

As I was packing the final items, I pulled out a small container holding my son’s medical records and stumbled across an old photo album.

Matthias was barely a year old in those pictures. That first year had been a grueling trial. I hadn’t just been unprepared to become a mother at such a young age—I hadn’t been prepared for anything at all.

Still reeling from the violent betrayals of my past, I had clung to survival by a thread, anchorless and exhausted to my very core. Anxious. Quick to tears. Hollowed out.