It’s been like that since they brought us here. Tonight, though, the place's energy feels different. Restless. The corridor has been busier than usual over the past hour. Boots pass our door in hurried intervals, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in groups large enough that the vibration of their steps travels faintly through the floor. Voices pass by in low bursts that cut off the moment someone approaches the door at the end of the hall.
Arkady’s death changed something. Even without seeing what happened beyond these walls, I know the balance of power inside this building has tipped. The gunshot that echoed downthe corridor still sits somewhere in my memory like a stone dropped into deep water, sending ripples outward through everything that followed.
Lila paces again. She’s been doing that since Ivan left the room, moving across the narrow floor in restless loops that never quite slow. Her arms remain folded tightly across her chest as if she’s trying to hold herself together physically.
Three steps toward the door. Turn. Three steps back toward the table. Turn again. Her boots scrape lightly against the concrete each time she pivots.
“You hear that?” she mutters suddenly.
I glance toward the ceiling, where the faint vibration of the trains continues to hum through the structure.
“I always hear it.”
“No.” She shakes her head, irritation hardening the motion. “Not the trains.”
She stops pacing long enough to tilt her head toward the door, listening more carefully than before.
Footsteps pass outside. Two sets this time. One voice says something low and quick before fading away again as the men continue down the corridor.
“They’re moving people around,” Lila says.
I’d already noticed. The pattern of movement outside the room has been changing gradually for the past hour, building into something more purposeful than routine patrols. Guards who once walked the corridor at a slow, predictable pace nowpass more quickly, their voices edged with tension that follows sudden leadership changes.
Arkady is gone. And Ivan… Ivan is reorganizing everything.
I rise slowly from the cot, pressing my palm briefly into the thin mattress to balance myself before standing upright. A wave of nausea rises briefly beneath my ribs before easing after taking a careful breath through my nose. The metallic taste that has lingered in my mouth since this morning returns briefly.
Lila notices my discomfort.
“You okay?” she asks, concerned.
“I’m fine.” The answer comes automatically.
Her eyes narrow as she studies my face, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she gestures vaguely toward the door.
“Do you think they’ll move us soon?” she asks, chewing on her lip.
“I do.” I tuck the loose strands that have slipped from my braided bun behind my ear. “This place belongs to Arkady.”
She considers that for a moment. “And Ivan won’t want to keep us in one of Arkady’s locations,” she says slowly.
“No.”
She exhales through her nose and presses her palms to her eyes. “That’s not good.”
The understatement would almost be funny if the situation were less serious.
The room feels smaller now that the truth has been spoken aloud. The concrete walls that once seemed merely restrictive now hold a different kind of pressure as the implications spread outward.
If Ivan moves us somewhere new, we lose what little familiarity we have gained here and start over with new walls, new guards, new routines, and deeper isolation. Once we disappear into another location entirely, whatever chance we have of recognizing patterns or exploiting weaknesses shrinks dramatically.
And Kiren?—
I force myself not to finish that thought.
Lila begins pacing again, but the movement has changed now. Her steps have more urgency than before, the tension in her shoulders visible with each turn she makes across the room.
“Then we have to get out before that happens,” she says.
