Chapter 4: Anya's Treatment

Words : 1760 Updated : Nov 13th, 2025

Seeing how desperate Anya looked, Stefan lost the urge to tease her and said, in a steady and serious tone, "Take off your clothes." "Huh? Take off my clothes?" Anya's heart lurched. For a split second, she thought Stefan meant to lay hands on her, but then she remembered he was just an inmate and she was a guard. What would he gain by trying anything with her? Unless he had some kind of old family technique that required touching her. Jaw clenched, she peeled off her prison-issue uniform, then tugged off her undershirt until she was down to just her bra. "Does this work?" Her face burned scarlet as she asked, mortified. It was the first time she'd ever bared herself in front of a man. Stefan's mouth twitched. He'd only meant for her to take off her jacket so he could reach her lower belly, not strip down this far. Still, faced with those elegant curves and tanned skin, he couldn't help but think she was a rare beauty indeed. If only there hadn't been that birthmark on her cheek. "That's enough." He drew a long, steadying breath, pushed stray thoughts aside, and set his palm over her core. He set his technique in motion. At the same time, the Harmony Wheel in his mind began to turn. Invisible threads of sickness unspooled from within Anya's body and streamed into his palm, drawing them into himself and sealing them away. "Ah!" The moment his hand touched her skin, Anya stiffened. She was about to explode and drive a kick into Stefan's ribs. But in the next breath, a soft moan escaped her. A wave of indescribable relief and clarity swept through her limbs. Her fatigue and discomfort melted away. Her whole body went light, like she'd swallowed a miracle pill, so light she could float away. Outside the office, two guards doubled back. Hearing the noises inside, their minds went straight to the gutter. Holy crap. That intense? In the office, in broad daylight? Couldn't even wait, huh. "All right." Reluctantly, Stefan took his hand away. What he'd drawn from her had already turned into pure, potent energy inside him. "T-that's it? It's done?" Anya stared at him, stunned. What had he even done? It had only been a few minutes, and it was already over? And that blissful, float-away feeling she'd just been basking in had vanished without a trace. Stefan nodded. "That's right. You're fine. Go wash your face, then take a look in the mirror." At his words, she bolted for the bathroom as if her hair were on fire. She splashed water over her face with frantic hands, then, heart pounding and fingers shaking, stepped in front of the mirror. The next second, her eyes flew wide, and tears burst free. She let out a shaky, ecstatic laugh. It was gone. The ugly birthmark on her face was gone. The nightmare that had haunted her for twenty-five years had vanished as if it had never existed. In that moment, no words could touch the mix of joy and relief flooding her chest. She came charging out of the bathroom, threw her arms around Stefan in a hard, grateful hug, and said, voice thick with emotion, each word weighty and sincere, "Stefan, thank you. My name is Anya Halenkamp. As long as I'm here, no one in this prison will lay a hand on you." "Charging. That's an offensive foul." Stefan grinned. Her chest felt soft and springy against him, and the sensation was far too pleasant. "You bastard!" Blushing to her roots, Anya let him go and swatted him in the chest. Stefan met her gaze and said, serious again, "Anya, the birthmark on your face will need two more sessions. After that, it'll be completely gone." He wasn't dumb. This was their first real interaction. If he cured her entirely in one go and she decided not to take him to see the warden, that could make things tricky. Anya didn't doubt him for a second. What he'd just done felt too miraculous to dismiss. She nodded. "Then thank you in advance. The warden isn't here today. When he gets in tomorrow morning, I'll take you to see him." "Good. In that case, I'll head back to my cell." He was in no hurry. "I'll walk you." Anya led him toward the cell blocks. "Anya," Stefan asked, voicing the question that had been sitting in his chest, "why'd you choose to be a guard at men's prison?" Anya's shoulders tightened. She stopped and gave him a hard, appraising look. "Why do you want to know? If it's not your business, don't pry. What about you? Why did you rape and kill over thirty members of the Scurr family?" Stefan held her gaze and answered calmly, "What if I tell you I was framed? Would you believe me?" Anya's brows shot up. "I believe you." She truly did. Nothing about Stefan read as bloodthirsty or depraved. And with a healing gift like that, what kind of woman couldn't he have if he wanted? Only a fool would do something as vile as what he'd been accused of. Back in Cell 927, Franklin and the other inmates saw Anya's restored face and froze as if lightning had struck. Holy hell. How did this woman get so gorgeous overnight? She used to look scary; now she looked like an angel. Their jaws went slack. Someone nearly drooled. Anya's brows snapped together. She pulled out her baton and brought it down on Franklin's shoulder. Bang! Her eyes went hard as she swept her glare over the room. "What are you staring at? Keep staring and I'll gouge your eyes out." Heads dropped across the cell. Fury sizzled under the surface, but no one dared talk back. "All of you, behave. If anyone starts another fight, it's ten days in solitary." She threw the words over her shoulder, then slammed the door. Bang! Once she was gone, Franklin's eyes burned with hatred as he locked onto Stefan. He ground out, "Kid, you finally came back." Three days earlier, Stefan had gone for Franklin's family jewels. The ache in his crotch hadn't stopped since. Faced with his enemy, Franklin saw red. Anya's threat had already blown out of his head. "Boys, get him. Kill him." He slashed his hand through the air and lunged for Stefan. The others, not daring to cross him, charged in behind, faces twisted with malice. But Stefan was not who he had been. His eyes went cold. He lifted his hand and slapped. The air cracked with the force of the blow. They flew as if struck by a speeding car, crashed into the wall, and slid down in a heap. A chorus of screams broke out. They coughed up mouthfuls of blood. "Do you want to live, or do you want to die?" Stefan's face stayed blank. His gaze, winter-cold, swept over them. Fear crawled over their skin like ice water. "S-Sir, have mercy. We didn't recognize who you were. We'll never cross you again. Please, don't kill us." Even Franklin knew better now. He trembled and sprawled on the floor, prostrating himself, pounding his head on the floor again and again.

Chapter 4: Anya's Treatment

Comments (0)