“Hey! Hello!” she calls out, her voice firm without tipping into panic. “We need water!”
She waits half a breath, then adds, louder this time, “And something to eat!”
Nothing moves beyond the frosted glass.
“She’s pregnant!” she says, her patience thinning. “If you want cooperation, you keep her hydrated!”
There’s a muted scuff beyond the door, boots dragging lightly against the concrete before the sound fades down the hall.
Lila exhales through her nose and turns back toward me, the rigid edge in her posture softening.
“You’re cold,” she says, brushing her hand briefly along my sleeve as if confirming the temperature through the fabric. “Sit.”
I lower myself into the metal chair because conserving energy makes sense when the environment is controlled by someone else. The chair legs drag faintly across the floor, and the sound echoes in the small room.
She leans against the desk instead of hovering, which I appreciate, and crosses her arms loosely over her chest while her eyes return to the door.
“We’re not on the main floor anymore,” she says, quieter now. “They took us through a side corridor. I counted two turns and one set of stairs.”
“I heard a second lock engage,” I tell her.
She nods once.
The air smells faintly of paper and oil, cleaner than the warehouse but still industrial. Somewhere deeper in the structure, something metal expands with a soft ticking sound as the temperature changes. Then a dull impact reverberates through the wall to our left.
Lila straightens instantly.
Another sound follows, louder, accompanied by voices that come through the wall more clearly than they did in the open warehouse.
“…your men are sloppy,” Arkady’s voice cuts through, cool and exact.
The tone alone identifies him.
“They did exactly what was required,” Ivan answers, his cadence controlled but edged.
“What was required,” Arkady repeats, as if examining the phrase for weakness. “And yet one is not accounted for.”
“That’s not my concern,” Ivan answers calmly.
“It’s mine.”
The room feels smaller now, and the air thinner.
“They moved quickly,” Ivan counters. “You insisted on speed. You got it.”
“And in the process, you lost control,” Arkady accuses.
There’s the faint scrape of a shoe across the floor, followed by the subtle movement of bodies.
“You forget who brought you leverage,” Ivan notes.
The silence that follows feels intentional rather than uncertain.
“Leverage,” Arkady replies, almost contemplative, “is useful until it begins to believe it’s a partner.”
I feel Lila’s shoulder tighten beside me.
“You wouldn’t have access without me,” Ivan pushes.
