22. Elena #3
“You dragged me out anyway,” Hannah recalls, looking at me now. “Made me help you break into storage.”
I huff. “You mean you stood there shaking while I picked the lock with a bent spoon.”
Her lips curve faintly. “And then you made me carry half the blankets because ‘if we got caught, we’d both get punished.’”
We glance at each other, smiles creeping up on our lips.
“They did catch us,” Hannah adds.
I shrug, like it doesn’t matter. “Yeah.”
Hannah studies me for a second, something quieter settling in her expression. “You didn’t say a word. Even when they—” She stops, and swallows. “You stood there and took it.”
I don’t look away. “Kids were warm. That was all that mattered.”
The room stretches into a comfortable silence between us.
Hannah nods once, slow, like sealing something shut.
“Yeah,” she says under her breath. “You don’t stop.
” She smiles. “Which is when I realized not to fight them,” Hannah continues.
“I couldn’t. That was obvious pretty fast.” A faint, humorless smile.
“Turns out, I’m not secretly a trained operative. ”
I huff out a quiet breath at that, but I don’t interrupt.
“So, I didn’t let them think I was going to win,” she continues. “And started trying to make them believe I matter less.”
My brows pull together. “What does that mean?”
“It means I listened. A lot.” I shrug slightly. “People talk when they think you’re not a threat. When they think you’re… background. I paid attention to routines, who got careless, who didn’t like each other.”
My eyes sharpen now, following. “You created openings.”
“Small ones,” she answers quickly. “Nothing dramatic. Enough. A door not fully latched. Being in the right place when someone forgot something. Making myself annoyed enough to get moved, but not enough to get hurt.” Hannah goes very still at that last part.
“I didn’t try to get out,” she adds, quieter now.
“Not really. I made it easier for you to get in.”
The silence that follows is heavier this time.
“And after?” I ask.
“I kept making choices,” she replies slowly. “Even stupid ones. Like… standing when I wanted to curl up. Talking when I wanted to shut down.” She glances at me, a little unsteady. “I figured if I stopped choosing things for myself, they’d still be controlling me. Even from a distance.”
Something like pride breaks through the worry I have felt since she was kidnapped.
“You say you didn’t fight,” I murmur. “But that sounds like fighting to me.”
Hannah shakes her head lightly. “It didn’t feel like it.”
“It doesn’t have to,” I reply. “You took back control in pieces. That counts.”
Hannah looks at me for a long moment, something in my chest loosening a little. “I… didn’t want to be the reason you walked into a trap,” she admits.
My jaw sets, eyes burning now, not with anger, but something deeper. “You were never the reason. You hear me? Never.” I smile, easing my tone at my next words. “But you certainly made sure we had a way to bring you home.”
She nods, eyes shining. “El, Oksana… she’s worse than Ivan.”
“She is,” I agree. Something in her shifts. The tension eases from her mouth, the tight line of her shoulders loosening as her face brightens into something lighter, almost playful. “What’s with the Russian?” she asks. “You’d think by now we’d have learned not to trust anyone from there.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. “He’s SVR,” I tell her.
Her brow creases, eyes narrowing a touch.
“Russian equivalent of the CIA.”
The humor fades, replaced by something sharper. “What does he want?”
I exhale and let myself fall back against the mattress, the softness giving slightly under my weight. My gaze fixes on the ceiling, tracing cracks and shadows instead of meeting her eyes. “Oksana,” I answer. After a second, I add, “Though I don’t think that’s the whole story. Feels… personal.”
“Do we trust him?”
I turn my head, studying her profile. “He didn’t hesitate when it came to getting you back.”
That earns a smile, small, but genuine. “All right,” she says. “I like him a little more now.”
I grin. “He also has a talent for getting under Clara’s skin.”
A soft chuckle escapes her. “Careful. That’s how friendships start.”
My hands settle against my lower stomach, fingers lacing together as the humor ebbs. “I don’t know if trust is the right word,” I murmur. “But if he’s standing across from my enemies…” I trail off, letting the thought finish itself.
She snorts. “He gives Alexei some real competition in the whole terrifying-protector department.”
Our eyes meet, and then we’re both laughing, the sound sudden and unguarded, cutting clean through everything we’ve been carrying.
“Okay,” she says, lifting her hands in surrender. “No one beats Alexei.”
I reach for her, threading my fingers through hers.
She squeezes back, firm and grounding. Her voice softens, the weight creeping back in. “So… what’s the plan?”
“When we get back to Zurdonia,” I tell her, resolving to settle in my bones, “I’ll grab Zoe. And everyone I have. And we stop Oksana and Wendell.”