The room is dark, aside from the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. She’s curled on her side in the middle of the bed, one hand tucked under the pillow, her blonde hair spilled across white linen.
Relief hits me. The logical part of me knew she was fine, that she was just sleeping in her own bed. However, I can’t help but worry about her. I’ve been doing it for decades, after all. Keeping Thea safe has been a part of my life since she was just a girl.
I lean against the doorframe, watching her.
She’s beautiful like this—unguarded, peaceful. There’s a calmness in her expression while she sleeps that I so rarely see, and it makes it obvious to me just how much worry she carries during the day.
The burden she bears is more than anyone should be asked to carry. And she’s not just beautiful. She’s innocent in a roundabout way.
Innocent.
The word gives me pause. Perhaps it isn’t the best word to describe her, but there’s still something untouched about her. Something soft and hopeful that this world hasn’t managed to destroy just yet.
And I want to keep it that way.
Even if I know that I’m the biggest threat to it.
Her eyes flutter open.
She blinks at me, disoriented. Then she sits up suddenly, pulling the blanket to her chest.
“Gabriel?” Her voice is rough with sleep, tinged with worry. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
“No.” I straighten. “It’s just… I woke up and you weren’t there.”
“So you came looking for me?”
“Yes.”
She studies me for a long moment, then her expression softens slightly.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she says. “In your room, I kept thinking about everything. And I just needed space. To think.”
“I get it.”
She cocks her head to the side slightly.
“Do you?”
I move into the room, closing the door behind me. “You’re trying to process everything that’s happened, everything you’ve learned. You needed to be alone. I understand.”
A pause. “Then why are you here?”
“Because I missed you,” I admit. “I woke up and you were gone and I—” I stop. This is harder than I expected. “First, I was worried. Then I just wanted your company.”
She’s quiet. I can sense she’s torn between telling me that her need for space hasn’t changed and inviting me to join her.
Finally, she shifts, making room in the bed.
“You can stay,” she says softly, “if you want.”
I cross to the bed and sit on the edge. I don’t touch her.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She turns away from me, staring at the window and the moonlight spilling in for several long moments. I can sense she’s giving the question serious thought.
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know.” She pulls her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I keep thinking about Kolya. About Sylvie. About those men in my apartment. About how close I came to—” Her voice breaks. “I’m scared, Gabriel.”
