When I finally do turn, he’s already there, standing a few yards away beneath the trees, shirt dark against darker shadows, eyes glinting like this is exactly where he expected us to end up. He doesn’t look out of breath. He doesn’t look angry.
He looks satisfied.
“There you are,” Leonid says calmly, like I wandered off and he simply followed. “I was wondering how long it would take.”
My legs shake. Fury surges up to meet the fear, hot and useless. “You planned this.”
“Yes.”
“You let me run. Again.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I demand, voice cracking despite everything I do to keep it steady.
He takes a step closer, boots crunching softly over leaves and stone. “Because you needed to see it for yourself.”
“See what?” I snap.
“That there was never a way out that didn’t go through me.”
The wall presses cold and immovable at my back. The woods close in around us, ancient and indifferent.
“That was a good attempt,” Leonid says calmly, like we’re discussing a chess move instead of my last shred of freedom. “You chose speed over stealth. Terrain over planning.”
I laugh, breathless and wild. “Fuck you.”
There’s no anger in his answer. Only certainty. “You could’ve gone left at the incline. The ground drops there. You might’ve gained another minute.”
I step closer then, fury slicing through the panic. “You watched me tear myself apart just to see how far I’d go.”
“Yes.”
I put my hands on my hips and turn slowly, my chest heaving, heart trying to claw its way out of my ribs. It’s plain to see now I’m standing here.There is no way out.
He stands a few feet away, shirt unruffled, expression unreadable. Like the forest itself bends around him instead of slowing him down.
“You enjoy this,” I accuse. “Watching me fail.”
“No,” he says quietly. “I enjoy watching you fight. And this isn’t failure. It’s learning.”
I swallow hard, hating how he echoes something dangerous and validating in my chest. “Why did you leave this morning?” The words are out before I can stop them.
His gaze sharpens, just slightly. Enough that I know I’ve hit something real.
“You don’t get to do that,” I continue, anger spilling now, hot and reckless. “You don’t get to stay and make me feel like—” I choke, breath hitching, “—likethat… and then disappear like it meant nothing.”
He takes a step closer.
“It didn’t mean nothing,” he says.
“Then why weren’t you there when I woke up?” My voice cracks and I hate myself for it. “Why did you leave me alone in that bed like I was a mistake?”
The silence stretches, thick and heavy, the woods holding their breath around us.
“You brought me here when you knew my situation, knew that I was running for mylife. You tell me that you’ve been watching me, make me think it’s so you can catch me, but tell me it’s because you have developed some ridiculous bullshit feelings for me. You say that you want me to choose you. Really you just want to fuck with my mind, because it’s the one thing Boris didn’t quite destroy.” I’m flailing now. My arms and hands waving around to punctuate my words, pacing as the vitriol and anger pours out of me because I’ve no room left inside of me for it. No strength left to carry it.
“I left,” he says finally, low and controlled, “because if I stayed, you would’ve felt like I was taking the choice from you.”
