“Help me stand,” she whispered, so softly it hurt.
I approached her with extreme care, like a man walking toward something infinitely fragile that might shatter at the slightest touch.
Slowly. Reverently.
I crouched beside her, sliding one arm gently behind her back and the other beneath her knees.
She felt terrifyingly light in my arms as I lifted her.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured against her hair, my voice cracking with unshed tears. “I’ve got you, Elena.”
Her body, frail and trembling, leaned into mine instinctively.
She didn’t fight it. She was too exhausted to resist anymore.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she simply let herself be held.
I adjusted my grip, one arm firm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back, and began walking toward the shattered doorway.
Every step felt heavy with guilt.
Then she shifted slightly in my arms.
Her head came to rest against my shoulder.
Just for a second.
The small gesture sent a sharp ache through my chest.
It was the closest thing to trust I had felt from her in years.
Almost normal.
Almost like we were any other husband and wife leaving a room together.
But we weren’t.
We never would be again.
I kept walking, saying nothing, afraid that if I spoke, the fragile moment would shatter.
Chapter 30
ELENA
Ihad passed out in that industrial tomb, certain the freezing darkness had claimed both me and my child.
Waking in this warehouse had not felt like salvation.
It felt like a second punishment.
The air in this place smelled of rust, oil, and decay.
My stomach was flat now—unnaturally so—and the absence terrified me more than the pain.
No weight. No movement. No soft, relentless reminders that I was carrying life inside me.
Just... emptiness.
