“I’m tired of people going away,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say. “I’m tired of it too.”
I pull the small wooden box from the shelf. It holds the pieces of her old life that we kept. A photo of Vera holding her in the snow. A ribbon Raina used to tie her hair when she was a baby. A button from a coat she loved.
“We’ll add something for Vera,” I say. “You choose.”
She reaches out with slow, careful hands and picks up a tiny silver earring. It’s one of Vera’s old ones. Anastasia must’ve placed it there this morning. Nadia turns it between her fingers.
“Here,” she says. “She wore these at the market. She laughed when the wind made them jingle.”
She puts the earring into the box. I close the lid and set it back on the shelf within her reach.
“We’ll open it whenever you want,” I say.
Nadia nods, then lifts her face to mine.
“Promise you’ll bring Mama back,” she says again. “You promised already, but I want you to say it again.”
“I promise,” I repeat. This time, I let the full weight of the words sit between us. “I’ll bring her back or I’ll die trying. I won’t stop. Not ever.”
She studies me, searching for any crack. She doesn’t find one. After a moment, she relaxes a little.
“Can you stay and play boats?” she asks. “Just a little.”
I look at the clock. My men will keep searching whether I’m in the control room or not. Kirill knows the systems better than anyone. Vlad knows the streets. Right now, my child needs proof that this house hasn’t lost every steady thing it had.
“Yes,” I say. “We can play boats.”
We sit on the floor with her wooden set. She lines them up in a neat row. Each one has a name. One is Vera. One is Raina. One is me. One is her. She pushes them across the rug, making small wave sounds with her lips. At one point, she picks up the boat with Raina’s name and holds it up.
“She is far,” Nadia says. “But the boat knows the way home.”
“Yes,” I say. “The boat knows.”
Anastasia watches from the chair, hands in her lap. There’s a strange mix on her face. Relief that Nadia is playing. Grief for Vera. Worry for Raina. Fear of what comes next. Loyalty sits there too, quiet and stubborn.
After a while, Nadia’s movements slow. The night and the weight of the last hours start to drag at her again. She yawns and rubs her eyes with her fists.
“You can sleep again,” I tell her. “I’ll talk to the men while you rest. We have people to find.”
She nods and climbs back into bed. I tuck the blanket around her and place the bear in her arms. She holds it close and smiles, just a little.
“Tell Mama I kept my fists up,” she whispers. “She always says that.”
“I will,” I say.
She closes her eyes. This time, sleep takes her faster. Her body is exhausted. Her mind has run in circles all night. I stand there and watch until I’m sure she’s gone deep.
When I turn to leave, Anastasia stands too.
“I’ll stay,” she says. “I’ll call if she wakes. I’ll make her tea when she does.”
I look at her for a long moment. There’s a small smear of cocoa on her sleeve from when she carried the cups earlier. There’s dirt at the hem of her dress from the burial plot. There’s fatigue in the line of her shoulders, but she doesn’t ask to go lie down.
“You’ve done enough for one night,” I say. “Go rest after you’re sure she’s settled. I’ll have another woman swap with you in a few hours.”
She shakes her head. “I want to be here when she opens her eyes. She trusts me. It helps her.”
