Chapter 8 Svetlana
SVETLANA
As the dark starts to close in, I know I’m lost. The realization feels as thick and suffocating as the snow falling around me.
I've been walking for... I don't know how long.
Everything looks the same. The same trees, the same snow, the same gray sky visible through the branches.
I try to retrace my steps, but my tracks are already disappearing.
The wind is picking up, blowing snow across the ground, erasing any trace of my passage.
I stop, turning in another circle. My breath comes faster, clouds of white in the freezing air. Which way? Which fucking way?
I pick another direction and keep walking, listening for the sounds of the men again.
My feet are beyond pain now. They're numb, which should be a relief, but I know it's not.
The thought of frostbite keeps running through my head, thoughts of hypothermia, and all of the other ways I could die out here.
It’s better than being caught or sold again… but I don’t want to die. That’s become very clear to me, no matter how good it would feel to just sit down and stop.
The light is fading. I look up at the sky, and I can see that the gray is deepening, turning darker. Dusk is coming. How long until full dark? An hour? Less?
I need to find shelter.
An hour later, I can barely see where I'm going.
I'm stumbling more than walking, my feet catching on roots and rocks hidden beneath the snow, so cold and numb that it feels like they’re detached from my body.
The shaking has gotten worse. My whole body is trembling in violent shudders that I can't control.
My teeth chatter so hard I'm afraid they'll crack.
I need to stop and rest, but if I stop, I'll freeze.
Keep moving. Just keep moving. One foot in front of the other. That's all I have to do. One foot, then the other.
My thoughts are getting fuzzy around the edges. Soft. Like the snow. The snow is pretty. White and clean and—
No. Focus. I need to focus.
What was I doing? Where was I going?
Kazimir. I was looking for Kazimir. Or was I running from someone? I can't remember. My thoughts feel so foggy and cloudy, and I’m having a hard time remembering why I would have come out here at all. I could have stayed in the safe house. It was warm. So warm—
My foot catches on something, and I go down hard, face-first into the snow. It's cold against my cheek, but it almost feels nice. I should get up, though, I tell myself.
I will. In just a minute. I just need to rest for a minute.
The snow feels almost soft, like a pillow. I could just close my eyes for a moment…
No.
The word comes from somewhere deep inside, some primal part of my brain that knows if I close my eyes now, I won't open them again.
Get up.
I push myself to my hands and knees. My arms are shaking so badly I can barely support my weight.
Get. Up.
I make it to my feet, sway, and then almost go down again.
Keep moving.
I take a step. Another. It’s almost fully dark now. I can barely see the trees in front of me. I can’t think of anything except how cold and dark it is, and the desperate need to keep moving.
And then, echoing through the trees, I hear a howl. It’s high and mournful, rising and falling with the wind, and the sound makes my chest ache in the instant before I realize what it is.
Then, my heart is racing.
Wolves.
Another howl answers the first. Then another.
There’s a chorus of them, echoing through the darkness.
They sound far away—maybe a mile? I have no way to gauge, and everything is strange out here—distance, time, all of it.
I don’t feel like I can get a grasp on any of it, especially not now, after being out here for so long.
I start walking again, faster now—as fast as I can manage. The howling continues, and it's hard to tell how many there are. It sounds like they’re getting closer, like they’re moving through the trees… hunting, maybe?
My breath comes in short, sharp gasps. The panic I've been holding at bay starts to flood my veins, and that familiar feeling of being prey creeps back in, the fearful sensation that I became so used to at Iosef’s compound.
I need shelter. I need to climb a tree, or something… anything to get away, to put distance between the predators who will eat me alive.
There’s another howl, much closer this time, and I break into a run.
My feet scream in protest. My lungs burn. I can't see where I'm going, can't see anything in the darkness. I stumble and go to my knees in the snow, then drag myself up again. The howling sounds like it’s all around me now. I look behind me, my heart pounding, and I see yellow eyes in the darkness.
Oh God.
I run faster, my heart hammering so hard I think it might burst. I can hear them now—not just howling, but running. The sound of paws on snow, of bodies moving through the underbrush.
They're chasing me. I'm prey. Again. I’m prey for something faster, bloodier, more vicious than me.
That’s all I’m ever going to be, right up until the second I die.
The thought is primal, visceral. I hear a snarl, and I want to scream, but I can’t find the air for it.
My lungs are tight and burning, my body already having been pushed far beyond its actual limits today.
I have nothing left to give, and I can feel my legs crumpling under me. My vision is tunneling.
I'm not going to make it.
I see a tree ahead, a massive pine with low branches. If I can climb—
Something hits me from behind.
I go down hard, the impact driving the air from my lungs. I roll, trying to get away, and see a wolf looming over me. It’s huge, gray, and white, its lips pulled back to show teeth that gleam in the darkness.
It's also not alone.
Four more slink out of the darkness, circling me with their eyes fixed on me, their bodies low and tense.
I scramble backward through the snow, and I feel my back hit a tree.
I’m trapped as the wolves move closer, and I can’t breathe.
I can’t think about anything other than how terrified I am.
My hands scrabble in the snow, searching for something—a rock, a branch, anything—but there's nothing.
I have no weapon. No way to fight. No way out.
After everything—the cells, the torture, the escape, the running—this is how it ends. Torn apart by wolves in the darkness.
The largest wolf’s muscles bunch as it goes to leap, its weight shifting back onto its haunches. I close my eyes, waiting for it to tear into me—
—and feel a spray of blood against my face and neck as there’s a gunshot, a yelp, and the sound of paws as the wolves scatter.
I open my eyes, shaking, and see them disappearing into the darkness. And I hear the sound of my name.
"Svetlana!"
It’s Kazimir.
He's running toward me, and I've never been so happy to see anyone in my life. Relief crashes over me so hard I can't breathe. I can’t get up, even as I try to push myself out of the snow, but I don’t need to. He drops to his knees next to me, his hands all over again as he looks to see if I’m injured.
And once again, I don’t mind his touch as much as I should.
I almost want to lean into it, see if he’d pull me closer, wrap his arms around me, hold me. Bring me into that warmth, that solidity, so I could feel safe again for a second.
"Are you hurt? Did they bite you? Svetlana, talk to me—"
"No," I manage through chattering teeth. "No, they didn't—"
"What the fuck were you thinking?" His voice shakes with fear or rage… or both—I can’t tell.. "What the actual fuck were you thinking?"
"I—"
"You could have died! You almost died! Do you have any idea—" He stops, his jaw clenching so hard I can hear his teeth grind. His hands are still on me, gripping my shoulders hard enough to bruise. "You're freezing. Jesus Christ, you're freezing."
He strips off his parka and wraps it around me, then pulls me against his chest. He's warm. So warm, and I feel myself cuddling into him despite everything.
"We're going back," he says, his voice rough. "Now."
He doesn't wait for me to agree. He just picks me up, holding me against his chest like I weigh nothing, and I'm too exhausted to protest. Too cold. Too relieved to be alive.
I can feel his heart pounding against my cheek. His breathing is harsh and uneven as he trudges through the snow, and I realize he’s afraid. Terrified, even, from the rapid, stuttering sound of his heartbeat.
The realization cuts through my exhaustion. Kazimir—this cold, controlled, dangerous man—is terrified… because of me.
Because I almost died.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, but I don't know if he hears me.
—
The safe house feels so impossibly warm.
Kazimir deposits me on the couch, and it’s not particularly gentle. He's vibrating with fury, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
"That," he says, his voice dangerously quiet, "was the stupidest thing you could have done."
I don't answer. I can’t, actually—I’m shaking, and my teeth are chattering too hard, as my body tries to absorb every last bit of warmth from the room we’re in.
"You stole my gun. You ran into the woods. You tried to ambush trained killers with no experience and no backup." He stops pacing, turning to face me. "You almost got us both killed."
"I didn't ask you to follow me," I manage, my voice hoarse.
"You didn't—" He laughs, but it’s cold and humorless. "You didn't ask me to follow you. Right. I should have just let you die out there."
I manage to shrug. "Maybe you should have."
His eyes flash, angry all over again. “What the fuck are you talking about? After all this… why the hell would you think—”
"Why not? You were going to hand me over anyway. I heard you on the phone. Talking about me. Negotiating—"
"You heard nothing," he snaps. "You heard half a conversation and jumped to conclusions."
"Then tell me! Tell me what you were really doing!"