Chapter 16 – “Look after her”

A scream tore from her throat, primal, desperate, her vision narrowing to that single, horrible sight.

This wasn't over. It couldn't be. She felt her world collapse, her resolve burning into white-hot rage as she looked up at Elijah, her heart twisting in grief and fury.

Anastasia barely registered her own body moving, but in a blur of agony and adrenaline, she was kneeling beside Matt, pulling him into her lap, her hands pressing desperately over his wound as though her touch alone could hold his life in place. The blood—hot and sticky—was everywhere, staining her fingers, her clothes, seeping into the ground, a red reminder of just how close he was to slipping away. She barely noticed how the Vatican Army slowly started to surround them.

"Matt," she choked out, her voice breaking. "Stay with me, please… you can't leave. We'll get you help, I swear it."

Matt's face was pale, his eyes fluttering with the effort it took to stay present. He blinked up at her, that mischievous glint somehow still faintly there. He tried to focus, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half-smile, and for a split second, he looked just like the Matt she knew—the tough, bad-boy brother who had a joke for every crisis.

"Didn't... know you... cared so much," he managed, his voice faint but enough to bring a tearful smile to her lips, though it broke her heart even more. Tears blurred her vision, and she had to bite down hard to keep her composure, clinging desperately to any hope that he could somehow make it through.

"You jerk," she whispered, forcing a laugh that came out as more of a sob, "I care… too damn much."

Matt's hand twitched, just barely, and he reached up to touch her cheek, his fingers cold but determined. She felt his energy waning with every second, his strength slipping like sand through her fingers, and the ache in her chest turned to raw panic.

"Look after Sean… Dad... you too," he breathed, glancing over at Bastian, who had knelt beside them, a silent, steady presence. Matt's eyes softened as he looked at Bastian. "You better… take care of them. Don't make me haunt you," he said, a faint grin playing on his lips even now, even at the edge of the unknown.

Bastian's jaw clenched, a tear tracing a single line down his face as he nodded. "I will," he said, voice rough. "I'll take care of them, Matt. I swear."

With one last glance at Anastasia, his eyes spoke a thousand words he couldn't say, a bond unspoken but stronger than anything she could put into words. He looked so calm, so at peace, even as he slipped away, his breath faltering, his gaze growing distant.

And then, with a final, soft whisper, his eyes glazed over and he was gone.

A strangled sound escaped her, something between a sob and a growl, her head dropping to his chest, hugging him close as though she could still feel his heartbeat. Bastian placed a hand on her shoulder, his own grief pressing down in the silent air as he turned his gaze to the ground. The Colonel and Lieutenant stood nearby, heads bowed, as if in silent tribute to a fallen comrade.

In that frozen moment, the weight of their loss settled in, heavy and unshakable, filling every corner of her heart with an aching emptiness.

"My condolences," Elijah's voice came, smooth and indifferent. "But now you have some idea why I'm stuck here, watching over a silly weapon on earth. The Powers That Be didn't take kindly to me, let's say...overstepping with humans."

He smirked, and something snapped inside Anastasia. Her head whipped around, and she leveled a glare at him so full of hatred that even Bastian, who had seen her darkest moments, barely recognized her now.

Without a word, she bent down, taking the Angel Fire Blade, from where it lay beside Matt. Every part of her was brimming with a purpose she hadn't planned for—but one that now felt more right than anything else in the world. She knew there would be consequences. She knew wielding this blade for vengeance might mean her own condemnation, but what mattered was that this creature, this monster, didn't deserve to draw another breath.

She began to march toward him, her movements unwavering, her eyes locked on Elijah. He didn't so much as flinch, his smirk deepening, almost as though he was amused by her fury. He still couldn't see it—didn't realize just how badly he'd underestimated the force standing before him.

Bastian's voice broke through her thoughts. He'd rushed forward, blocking her path, eyes wild with worry. "Ana, no," he said, his voice low and urgent. "This is an archangel. I know he broke the laws, and he deserves every bit of your anger, but killing him… that'll only make things worse. It won't bring Matt back."

Elijah's laugh broke between them, harsh and mocking. "Listen to him, Anastasia. He's right; kill me because you'll never leave here with that weapon." His eyes gleamed, a taunting edge in his voice. "Go on—end it. It's the only way you're getting out of here."

Anastasia glanced at Bastian. There was a plea in his eyes, something that urged her to stop, to rethink, but she could also see the acceptance. He knew she couldn't just walk away. Not now. She pushed past him, her grip tightening on the sword, feeling its strange, heated energy pulse through her hand. She didn't need to kill him—but she was going to make sure he'd never be able to get up.

Elijah's cocky expression faltered for a split second as she came close. With a brutal swing, she drove the blade toward him, and to his surprise, he stumbled back, forced to parry the blow. His smug smirk wavered, giving way to something darker, something almost afraid.

"Underestimate me again," she whispered, her voice dripping with fury.

Elijah barely had a moment to react before she attacked again, her movements fierce and unrelenting, fueled by the pain that still ached from losing Matt. She twisted around him, each blow a force of her determination. She could see it dawning in his eyes—he was losing. And then, with a final, shattering strike, she brought the blade down on his shoulder, driving him to his knees, the sheer weight of her strength forcing him into the dirt.

The arrogance drained from Elijah's face, replaced by a stunned horror as he knelt, weakened, unable to rise. He could only look at her with laboured breathing. "I underestimated you – again."

The army behind him froze, eyes wide as they watched their mighty leader brought to the ground, unable to even stand under Anastasia's wrath.

She kept the blade pointed at him, her chest heaving, her heart still broken but her resolve unshaken. "One day, you will die but not by my hand," she spat in disgust and walked away.

Without a word, Colonel Wolf and Lieutenant Avery gathered Matt's body, holding him close, and turned away, leaving Elijah beaten in the dirt, powerless to stop them.

She could feel the eyes of Elijah's soldiers on her, some filled with awe, others with fear, but none made a move to challenge her. They stepped aside, silent, allowing her, Bastian, and the others to pass.