Chapter 25 - The Storm Within

Anastasia was a storm.

Her fists crashed into the punching bag like thunderbolts, each blow sending ripples through the reinforced material. Her knuckles stung, raw from the unrelenting assault, but she didn't care. She couldn't stop. The rage bubbling inside her needed an outlet, and this was the only way she knew to release it.

Sweat streamed down her face, plastering strands of her dark hair to her temples. Her chest heaved with every hit, and her breathing was uneven, but the fire in her eyes never dimmed. It only burned hotter.

Billy leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and jaw tight. He didn't try to stop her. He'd learned that since she came back, Anastasia wasn't someone you coddled in moments like this. She was a force of nature, and trying to intervene would only make her angrier. But still, watching her self-destruct was like standing helplessly at the edge of a cliff, unable to pull her back.

"Another bag down," Wyatt muttered, dragging the tattered remains of the punching bag off to the side. It wasn't the first she'd destroyed that week, and he was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last.

Anastasia didn't even glance at him. Her focus was razor-sharp, her mind miles away.

Billy took a hesitant step closer. "Ana, maybe you should—"

"No." Her voice was ice, cutting through the humid air of the training room.

He sighed and exchanged a glance with Wyatt, who merely shrugged, shook his head and walked back upstairs. Billy knew that tone. It was the same one she used when she was spiraling, a tone that dared anyone to challenge her.

Jenny's words echoed in Anastasia's head, looping like a broken record: "You're pregnant."

At first, she'd felt a fragile flicker of joy. A piece of Bastian, a part of the love they had shared, still alive and growing inside her. But that fleeting happiness had quickly curdled into bitterness. If Bastian had known—and he must have known—then why had he left? Why had he abandoned her, their child, their future?

"How could he?" she muttered under her breath, slamming her fist into the bag with such force that the chain holding it groaned.

Billy winced at the sound. "Ana, you've got to slow down, or—"

The chain snapped. The bag went flying across the room, crashing into the wall and leaving a dent in the plaster before collapsing onto the floor.

Anastasia stood there, chest heaving, fists trembling. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but no tears fell. She refused to cry. Not now. Not ever.

"How could he leave me?" she finally said, her voice breaking the silence. "How could he leave us?"

Billy stepped forward cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal. "Ana…"

"I don't want to hear it!" she snapped, turning on him. "Don't tell me he had his reasons. Don't tell me he's trying to protect us. Don't make excuses for him, Billy!"

Billy clenched his jaw. "I'm not making excuses. I'm just trying to get you to see that Bastian—"

"—knew!" she interrupted, her voice rising. "He knew about the baby, and he left anyway!"

"Enough!" Billy's voice boomed, silencing her. She froze, glaring at him with defiance, but he held his ground. "You think he left because he's a coward? Because he doesn't care? I've known Bastian my whole life, Ana. That man would never run from being a father. If he knew about the baby, then he left because he thought it was the only way to protect you."

The room fell silent. The only sound was Anastasia's ragged breathing. She wanted to argue, to yell, to throw something, but the conviction in Billy's voice chipped away at her anger.

"He would've fought," Billy continued, softer now. "For you. For the baby. Hell, for all of us. But sometimes fighting means walking away."

Anastasia's shoulders sagged, the fire in her eyes dimming just slightly. She felt the weight of his words settling over her, heavy but comforting.

"You don't know that," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Billy stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know Bastian. And I know you. He didn't leave because he didn't care. He left because he cared too much."

Anastasia closed her eyes, letting the words sink in. The anger she'd been holding onto so tightly began to loosen its grip, replaced by something softer.

"I'm having a baby," she said, almost to herself. The words felt strange on her tongue, like they belonged to someone else.

"Yes, you are," came a soft voice from behind her. Rose had entered the room quietly, her face a mixture of concern and love. She walked up to Anastasia and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

Anastasia stiffened at first, unused to the affection, but eventually melted into the embrace. For the first time in days, she felt the tightness in her chest ease.

"You're not alone in this," Rose said, her voice muffled against Anastasia's shoulder. "We're here. All of us. We're going to help you through this."

Anastasia pulled back, looking at her with watery eyes. "You don't understand. I—"

"Stop," Rose said firmly, cutting her off. "I might not understand everything, but I know one thing for sure. Family doesn't walk away. And we're your family, Ana. You've got me, Billy, Wyatt, Matt, Sean—all of us. We're going to be here for you, every step of the way."

Billy nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're stuck with us, kid. Whether you like it or not."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Anastasia let out a soft laugh. It was shaky and broken, but it was a start.

Rose grinned, wiping her eyes. "And this baby? This baby is going to have the coolest aunt ever. Sorry, Billy."

Billy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't start dressing it in pink tutus or something."

Rose gasped in mock offense. "How dare you! Pink tutus are adorable!"

Anastasia couldn't help but smile, a genuine one this time. The storm inside her hadn't fully cleared, but for now, there was a break in the clouds.

She looked at Billy and Rose, her voice steady. "Thank you. Both of you."

They nodded, and for the first time in days, Anastasia felt something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time: hope.

Rose clapped her hands together. "Alright, so we've got a lot to do. Baby shopping, setting up a nursery—oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

Billy groaned. "Here we go."

But despite his eye-rolling, there was a small smile on his face.

As the three of them stood there, a strange sense of peace settled over the room. It wasn't perfect, and it wouldn't last forever, but for now, it was enough.

And as Rose and Billy began planning out how to help her with the baby, Anastasia allowed herself to believe, just for a moment, that everything might be okay.

Rose then suddenly changed her mood. "Since you in better spirits, I think maybe it's time I tell you about Dylan."