A living shield. We stepped through the double doors.
The cool night air hit my skin like a blessing.
Freedom.
Two black SUVs waited outside with engines already running.
Ethan moved ahead and opened the back door of the first vehicle.
I climbed in first.
Dario slid in beside me.
Ethan settled on my other side.
Luca, Marco, Nico, and Vito entered the second SUV.
Doors slammed.
Engines roared.
The convoy pulled away smoothly, tires whispering over gravel before transitioning to asphalt.
Streetlights blurred past in streaks of gold and shadow.
I leaned my head against the cold window.
In the side mirror, I saw Ruslan’s estate shrinking.
Smaller. Further.
Until it disappeared completely.
Gone from sight. Not gone from memory.
But physically removed.
Ethan’s voice broke the silence beside me.
“Elena... will you let our doctor treat you in New York?”
His tone wasn’t pushy. It was careful.
Concerned.
“Full-time care. Therapy. Specialists. Whatever you need.”
I turned my head toward him.
Exhaustion pressed heavy on my bones.
Without proper treatment—the infections still raging inside me, the internal damage, the trauma that clawed at my mind—it was only a matter of time before my body failed again.
I had survived prison. Survived kidnapping. Survived losing my child.
But survival without healing was a slow death.
I nodded once.
