Chapter 11 Adrian
ADRIAN
"Can you stand?" I ask.
Elena blinks at me, and for a moment, she doesn't respond. It's like she's looking through me instead of at me.
"Po?i s? te ridici?" I ask again, softer and in Romanian this time.
She nods slowly, and I reach out to help her, but she shifts her weight and pushes herself up using the wall instead. Her legs tremble, and she sways slightly, but she doesn't fall.
She doesn't take my hand.
I drop my arm back to my side, my chest tight.
She's right there. Right in front of me, alive and real, but the way she's looking at me, or rather, not looking at me, doesn't sit right with me.
I glance around the room. Three bodies lay on the ground, with blood pooling across the expensive rug. Maxim's corpse is sprawled near the overturned side table, his face a ruined mess.
The silencer kept things quiet, but it's only a matter of time before someone notices.
I turn back to Elena. She's standing now, her arms wrapped around herself, her shoulders hunched inward like she's trying to hold herself together.
She's so much more frail than I remember. She looks completely overwhelmed and she almost seems like she doesn't even remember me. How would that even be possible.
"We have to go," I say.
She doesn't respond.
I reach for her hand, and she flinches again. I see it, and it feels like a punch to the gut.
I freeze, my hand hovering in the space between us.
"Leni," I say and look at her.
She looks at my hand, then at my face, and after what feels like an eternity, she slowly reaches out and places her fingers in mine.
Her hand is freezing. Her fingers ice cold and limp in my hand.
I close my hand around hers, and I lead her forward, carefully stepping over Maxim's bleeding corpse.
I shut the door as best as I can, and we start walking.
The hallway is empty, but I can hear voices echoing from downstairs. There's shouting and commotion.
I keep Elena close, my grip on her hand firm but not tight. I don't want to scare her more than she already is.
We reach the back stairs, and I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone's come up the other way.
Elena moves beside me as we head down, silent, and her steps are stiff.
None of this is like her.
The Elena I knew was fire. She was loud and wild and full of life. She laughed too hard and argued too much and never, ever stayed quiet when something was wrong.
This version of her is, I don't know what. She'll be better once we're out of here.
We reach the ground floor, and the chateau is buzzing with confused energy. I can hear guards shouting orders, doors slamming, people running.
We join the crowds, and I see two women I freed from the basement running through the area, causing chaos.
Serves these sick fucks right.
I look around, and I spot Victor near the main entrance. He's standing with two Swiss officials, talking.
I wave him over.
Victor walks over to me, and I step aside, and he stops, his eyes going wide.
"Elena!"
She doesn't acknowledge him, and Victor looks at me, confusion on his face. I nod, and he looks down at the blood splattered across my cuffs.
"I released those girls," I say low enough that only he can hear. "And there's dead Russians upstairs. We need to go. Now."
Victor's jaw tightens, and he glances at Elena again. His gaze lingers on her face, taking in the woman we buried and all thought was dead until a few weeks ago.
"Okay, wait here," he says.
He turns and walks back toward the officials, who are now joined by a small crowd of people.
I turn away and look down at Elena.
She's staring at the floor, her free hand clutching the fabric of her sweater. Her breathing is shallow, uneven.
"Hey," I say softly and gently stroke her cheek. "Are you okay?"
She doesn't look up.
Fuck, I have no idea what to do.
I want to ask her what's wrong. I want to pull her into my arms and tell her she's safe now. I want to see her eyes light up the way they used to when she looked at me.
But I can't.
Because she's not looking at me like I'm her Adi.
She's looking at me like I'm a stranger.
Maybe I'm wanting too much too fast. But how do you gauge your hopes and desires in a situation like this?
Victor reappears, his expression tight. "They are putting this place on lockdown, so we need to hurry."
I don't argue. I just tighten my grip on Elena's hand and follow Victor toward the main doors.
"Oh," Victor says and stops. "If anyone asks, she's eaten something bad and we need to take her to the doctor."
I nod, and we continue.
I glance at Elena, and she's looking at me. I smile, but it goes unnoticed.
We pass a Swiss security guard who is frantically trying to lock the entrance. Victor steps in front of him, says something while showing him his diplomatic ID and motions back to us, and the guard hesitates just long enough for us to slip through.
The cold air hits me like a slap to the face, and my shoes crunch on the snow as we hurry down the steps.
At the bottom, with the engine idling, is a Rolls-Royce waiting for us.
The driver gets out and goes to open the door, and Victor stops him.
"I'll bring it right back. Give me the keys."
I walk past him and open the back door and guide Elena inside. She climbs in without a word.
I run around the other side as Victor runs around the front of the car to hop into the driver's seat.
I get in the back next to Elena and shut the door.
The car pulls away from the chateau, the tires skidding over the snow as we drive away. I glance back through the rear window. No alarms yet. No sirens.
We made it.
I turn back to Elena.
She's sitting beside me, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed out the window. The passing trees and snow-covered hills reflect in the glass, but I don't think she's seeing any of it.
I lean back and take a deep breath, and my adrenaline crashes.
My hands start to shake, and I press them against my thighs to steady them. My chest feels tight, and my breath comes out in short, uneven bursts.
I did it.
I found her.
She's here and right beside me.
I reach over slowly, carefully, and wrap my arm around her shoulders. I pull her into my side, the way I used to. The way I did a thousand times before she was taken.
She doesn't melt into me. She doesn't lean her head on my shoulder or curl into my chest or let out a shaky breath of relief.
She just sits there.
I look down at her face, at the way her eyes are glassy and distant, and a dark question rises in my mind.
What did these sick fucks do to her.
I can't even allow myself to go there as I'll want to turn this car around and kill everyone in that building.
"Dou?zeci de minute," Victor says, looking at me and then Elena in the rearview mirror.
"Da," I say and nod.
20 minutes until we're at the safehouse.
The place is a cabin tucked into the mountains. It's isolated and surrounded by snow-covered pines, and far enough off the main road that no one will find us unless they're looking.
Victor arranged it a few days ago, in case staying at the chateau didn't pan out.
We pull up in front, and I hop out, scanning the area before going around to the other side to help Elena out of the car.
She lets me hold her arm and guide her up the steps and through the front door.
I turn on some lights and bring her to the living room, and she sits on the couch.
"I'll start a fire," I say and turn to start putting wood in the stone fireplace.
After I stack a few logs, I light it, and the fire crackles to life. I stack another log on top and watch sparks spiral up into the chimney.
I glance over my shoulder, and she's sitting exactly where I left her, hands folded in her lap, staring at nothing.
Movement catches my eye. Victor stands in the doorway to the kitchen, and he nods, calling me over.
I push myself to my feet and brush the ash off my hands. "I'll be right back," I say to Elena.
She doesn't even turn her head to look at me. She's just spacing out now, staring at the flames.
I look at her for a moment and then walk into the kitchen.
Victor's leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.
"I can't fucking believe it," he says, looking over my shoulder out to her.
"I know," I say and look back at her. "Believing and seeing are two different things."
"More in this situation than anything else," he says and laughs. "How are you?"
"I'll be fine," I say and rub my chin. "Now. You know."
He nods and pulls out his phone and glances at the screen. "Good. Also, I'm leaving."
My jaw tightens. "What do you mean you're leaving?"
"I'm going back to the chateau."
"Like hell you are."
Victor shrugs. "That was always the plan, brother. If I don't return, it'll look too suspicious. I told them I was taking her to a hospital. If I disappear, they'll start asking questions we can't answer."
"Let them ask."
"Adrian." Victor says and uncrosses his arms. "This is about keeping you and Elena off their radar long enough to get all of us out of here and back to Romania."
I step forward and lower my voice. "We just walked out of a diplomatic event where three Russians got shot and kidnapped women are on the loose. You think going back is going to look less suspicious?"
He laughs. "Yeah, it's fucked, but I think staying gone looks worse.
" Victor steps closer and puts his arm on my shoulder.
"Right now, they're scrambling. The basement full of trafficked women you freed is causing chaos.
The guards are busy trying to contain the situation.
If I walk back in, play the concerned diplomat, steer the narrative, I buy us time. "
"And what if they arrest you?"
"They won't." Victor smiles. "I'm very good at what I do."
I shake my head. "This is insane."
"This is strategy." Victor taps his phone screen. "I'll keep the Swiss officials focused on the trafficking ring instead of looking for you, and most importantly, for her. And I'll make sure no one connects Elena's disappearance to the bloodbath you left in that suite."
"Okay, if you think it's best," I say.
"I do. And it'll enable me to keep my pulse on things, make sure the Russians aren't sending anyone this direction. Once the heat dies down, I'll come back, and we'll head home."
I shake my head, and Victor shifts to look over my shoulder toward the living room.
"How is she?"
"She's…" I stop and think of how to say it. "She's not herself."
"She's been held captive for eighteen months. Give her time."
"She doesn't even look at me."
Victor glances in my direction. "She will, don’t worry.“
I want to believe him. I want to believe that the Elena I knew, the girl who laughed too loud and kissed me like the world was ending, is still in there somewhere.
But right now, I don't see her.
Victor steps back and adjusts his cufflinks. "You got her out. That's what matters. The rest will come," he says.
Then he heads out the front door, and a few seconds later, the sound of the car engine fades into the distance.
And then it's just me and Elena.
Alone.