Real. Unfixable. Irreversible.
The heavy steel door at the end of the corridor loomed ahead.
I didn’t slow down.
Behind me, Ruslan’s footsteps echoed through the corridor — uneven now, weighted by the injury in his leg.
His gait was slower.
Forced.
He was trying to keep pace without showing weakness.
“Elena.”
His voice followed me.
I kept walking.
“Elena — wait.”
The tone was strained. Almost frustrated.
I reached the door and slapped my palm against the access panel.
It scanned.
There was a brief mechanical pause.
Then —
A soft beep.
Green light.
The steel slab hissed open slowly, grinding against its frame as hydraulic systems released pressure.
Cool night air rushed in immediately.
It brushed against my skin like a shock.
The scent of jasmine from the gardens above drifted through first — sweet, subtle.
Ruslan caught up just outside.
His breath was heavier now.
Labored.
His hand pressed firmly against his thigh where fresh blood had already darkened the bandage again — the wound reopening from too much movement.
He stopped a few feet behind me.
“You don’t have to walk away like this,” he said quietly.
The words were almost pleading.
I spun around instantly — fast enough that my hair whipped across my cheek.
