"Hi, Daddy," Britney sang, her voice sugary sweet, the perfect imitation of innocence. "Oh, Ana, my dear sister!" She took a step toward Anastasia, all fake concern and forced warmth.
Anastasia flinched, shifting closer to her father, her body coiled like a wounded animal. Matt's arm shot out in front of her, a human barricade, his scowl murderous.
"Stay away from me!" Anastasia spat, her entire body trembling with fury.
Britney gasped, a dramatic hand to her chest like she'd been slapped. "I just wanted to check on you! It was so kind of Dylan to bring me here. I was so worried." Her voice dripped with syrupy sweetness, but her eyes gleamed with malice.
Bastian's gaze sharpened, slicing through her performance. "Yeah, I'm sure you were," he said, voice flat and edged with steel.
Britney's smile faltered for just a second before she turned to Dylan. He gave her a small nod—keep going. So she did, but her tone shifted, growing dangerously soft, mockingly sympathetic. "You know, Ana, it's such a shame you've been under so much stress. Especially now, with everything changing…"
A dramatic pause. A slow, satisfied smirk.
"…and with me being pregnant and all."
The room imploded.
Silence. Sharp, suffocating, before it burst like a dam.
"You're what?" Matt's voice was deadly quiet, the kind of quiet before a storm obliterates everything in its path.
Britney's smile widened, feeding off their disbelief. "I'm expecting a baby," she repeated, relishing every syllable. "With Dylan."
Anastasia felt her stomach drop, the world tilting under her.
Matt's fists clenched, his knuckles white. Wyatt's face darkened as the pieces clicked into place. Bastian took a single step forward, his body coiled tight, barely restraining the violent storm inside him.
"You conniving little—" Rose started, her voice shaking with rage, but Matt cut her off.
"You little shit!" he roared, his entire body shaking. "After everything—after what you did to Ana—you dare—"
Britney sighed, exasperated. "Oh, Matty, calm down. Life goes on." She waved a dismissive hand. "Maybe this is what Ana needed to move past her little… infatuation."
Bastian's restraint snapped.
"Get out," he snarled, his voice low and lethal.
Dylan, who had been silent, finally spoke, his voice dripping with fake innocence. "We only stopped by to check on Ana. We're not here to fight."
Bastian's glare could have cut through steel. "You're lying. And you've done enough. Leave. Now. Or I won't be responsible for what happens next."
Britney, satisfied that her chaos had taken root, dropped the act completely. "Fine, we'll go. But don't think this is over, Ana. You'll have to accept this eventually."
"Get out!" Wyatt thundered, stepping forward, his presence a force of nature.
Britney smirked as she turned to Matt, eyes dancing with something cruel. "By the way, Matty," she cooed. "How's Jenny? I hope everything's okay after that… little note."
Matt's entire body stiffened. His eyes widened as the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
"MOTHER FU—" He lunged, his fury an unstoppable force, but Rose stepped in front of him, shaking her head. Not now. Not here.
Matt forced himself back, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. But he couldn't even look at Britney anymore. The sight of her was enough to make his blood boil over.
As they exited, Dylan kept his gaze forward, but Britney glanced back, her lips curling into one last taunting smirk. And then—for just a fraction of a second—her face changed. Warped. Twisted into something monstrous. Something not human.
Anastasia's breath hitched. She blinked, hard, convincing herself it was her mind playing tricks. But her father's expression remained eerily calm, though his narrowed eyes spoke volumes. Bastian and Billy exchanged the briefest of glances, their faces unreadable.
No one spoke about what they had just seen.
But everyone had seen it.
The room felt suffocating even after they left.
Anastasia exhaled shakily, leaning into her father, who held her close.
Bastian stood at the foot of the bed, fists clenched, anger and sorrow clashing inside him. He wanted to take this pain away. Destroy it. But he knew some wounds didn't heal overnight.
"It's over," Wyatt murmured, his voice calm but firm. "You don't have to deal with them anymore."
Anastasia wanted to believe him. But deep down, she knew it wasn't over.
She met Bastian's gaze. His little, reassuring smile grounded her. She wasn't alone. Not anymore.
And that was enough for now.
———
Wyatt entered his house, shutting the door behind him with a quiet finality. His face was unreadable as he walked to his office, opened a drawer, and pulled out a ring. A simple gold band with an emerald at its center. He slid it onto his finger, flexing his hand once before reaching for his Beretta, loading it with blue-laced bullets.
Then, he waited.
"Britney?" His voice was steady, calm. The kind of calm that signaled danger.
Footsteps sounded from upstairs. Britney appeared in the doorway, her usual smugness intact.
"Hi, Daddy."
He studied her. A creature in human skin.
"Where's your mother?" he asked conversationally.
"Oh, she wasn't here when I left, but I'm sure she'll be back soon."
Wyatt motioned to the couch. "Sit down, honey. Let's talk."
Britney tilted her head, playing along. "Am I in trouble?"
"Why would you think that?" His smile was small, sharp.
"Oh, because I stole Dylan away? Duh," she mocked, rolling her eyes.
Wyatt's smile didn't waver. "The last thing you want to do is get cheeky with me, missy."
Britney waved a hand dismissively. "Daddy, there's no point in punishing me. I'm pregnant."
Wyatt hummed, tilting his head slightly. "I'm wondering where you get this… boldness to speak to me this way, little Babaroga."
Britney's entire body stiffened. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but Wyatt saw it.
"Babaroga?" She forced a giggle. "What on earth is that?"
"A creature from Slavic folklore," Wyatt mused. "A shape-shifter. Curses those she dislikes. Can turn invisible." His eyes glinted darkly. "I thought they died out."
A slow gulp. Barely noticeable.
Wyatt leaned forward, pressing his fingers together. His voice was calm. "How old are you, really?"