22. Elena #2
Zurdonia was still hours away, a final stretch of sky separating us from solid ground and whatever comes next. Cramped seats and recycled air felt preferable to lying awake, minds already spiraling toward Oksana and Wendell, toward plans that weren’t ready to be made yet.
I made sure Cooper, our resident medic onboard, examined Hannah in the only private bedroom without discussion or ceremony.
It wasn’t framed as kindness or necessity; it simply happened, the way people step aside for an ambulance or lower their voices near a hospital room.
The door closed behind them, sealing in silence and the rare luxury of rest, while the rest of us took what remained, crowded, restless, but moving. And for now, moving was enough.
Hannah lies propped against pillows, covers tucked around her so tightly she looks smaller than she ever has, fragile in a way I’m not used to seeing. The sight pins me in place.
I move closer, but I don’t sit. I can’t. The guilt won’t let me.
“How are you feeling?” I ask instead. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine,” she says easily.
I nod, eyes roaming the room, the IV stand, the dimmed lights, the careful symmetry of the furniture, anywhere but her face.
She sighs. “El.”
I freeze.
“It’s not your fault.”
The words hit hard. I shake my head. “I knew it was dangerous. We shouldn’t have left Petrova’s walls. If I hadn’t—” My voice cracks. “You wouldn’t have been taken. Lady Arabella wouldn’t be traumatized. And Alexei—” I swallow hard. “Alexei almost drowned.”
Her jaw drops. “What?” She pushes herself up, alarm flaring. “Is that true?”
I nod, throat tight, memory dragging me under, water closing over him, the sound of the lid snapping shut in place, my heart screaming his name, the terror of thinking I was about to lose him. “My decision almost cost me the two people I love most.”
“Sit,” Hannah demands firmly.
I don’t move.
She levels me with a look I’ve known my whole life. “Elena. Sit.”
I obey.
She reaches for my hand, fingers warm and steady.
“I knew the stakes too.” She waits patiently until I meet her gaze.
“I was the one who recommended it.” She lifts her other hand before I can interrupt.
“And yes, you’re about to say you could’ve stopped it.
But I’m a big girl. I chose to go. I don’t blame you. ”
I hate the way the silence stretches between us.
My voice comes out rough. “If anything had happened to you?—”
“It didn’t,” she cuts in gently. “I’m here. Safe. Thanks to you, Braydon, Alexei, and everyone else.”
I stare down at our joined hands. “What did Oksana and Wendell do to you?”
“Nothing,” she answers, and at my expression, she insists, “Truly. They kept me in a room almost as nice as my quarters in Zurdonia.”
She takes a breath, then tells me everything: hands grabbing her, the tunnels beneath the city, the moment she bit down hard enough to break free, the sting of the sedative that Wendell jammed into her neck, the darkness swallowing her whole.
When she finishes, the room feels heavier, like it needs a moment to absorb it all.
“I saw her,” Hannah adds quietly. “The woman from the restroom.”
“I know,” I say.
Her brows lift. I explain how the woman broke Wendell out, how they’re working together. “Her name is Oksana Vasiliev.”
Hannah blinks. “Is she related to?—”
“Yes,” I confirm, stone settling over my expression. “She’s… my aunt.”
Hannah stares, then shakes her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a more screwed-up family.”
A weak laugh escapes me. Leave it to Hannah to find the crack of light.
Then her face sobers. “I overheard them talking. They’re coming after you.”
“I know,” I frown. “And I’m not backing down.” I squeeze her hand. “I’ll protect you too.”
She squeezes back. “We protect each other. Don’t think I won’t remind you every second about the promise we agreed to that we do it together.” She hesitates, then says softly, “I did everything I could to warn you.”
“I know,” I interrupt. “And because you did, we understood what we were dealing with. And we got you back.”
“Hey… hey.”
Her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it, like she’s afraid I might disappear if she speaks too loudly. Her hands hover for a second before settling on my shoulders, grounding, steady.
“I thought—” I stop, swallowing hard. “When we got there… it wasn’t what I expected.”
Hanna lets out a small breath, half a laugh that doesn’t quite land. “What? You expected me tied to a chair, waiting to be dramatically rescued?”
My mouth twitches, but my eyes don’t. “I expected you to need us more. You changed things before we even got to you. How?”
She hesitates. “I was terrified,” she admits.
“Like… can’t-breathe, can’t-think terrified.
” I glance up at her. “I still am, a little.” Her voice wobbles.
“It doesn’t make sense, the room was… comfortable.
But thinking I’d never see you or Braydon again…
” She swallows. “How did you survive your grandfather?”
My breath shudders out. Memories claw free, pain, fear, all of it. I tell her the truth, the one I only ever gave Alexei in the dark, enclosed in the protectiveness of his arms.
“I was scared too,” I whisper. “I wasn’t brave. I wanted it to end. I felt like a coward.”
Her grip tightens, enough to say I’m here. She squeezes my hand hard. “You are the bravest person I know.”
I smile sadly. “I didn’t always feel like it. But if the orphanage taught me anything, it’s that even in the darkest times… I don’t give up. Not until my last breath.”
Hannah lets out a breath that almost turns into a laugh, but doesn’t quite make it. She shifts against the wall, wincing, eyes flicking up to me. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Like the winter, the pipes froze.”
My mouth twitches.
“We weren’t supposed to leave our rooms,” she goes on, her voice soft but edged with something older than both of us. “But the younger kids didn’t have blankets. The heat was gone faster than when parents dumped off their kids on the front steps. Everyone was just… pretending it wasn’t that bad.”
I can see it clearly as she speaks, the dim hallways, breath fogging in the air.