bring my thumb to her cheek, brushing away a stray tear. “You don’t get to blame yourself. Ever. I’m here. I’m alive. And it’s because of you.”
Finally, she leans against me, forehead resting against mine. Her hands clutch my arms tightly, as if holding onto me might keep the guilt from spilling over. I tighten my grip on her, pressing her close.
“You hear me?” I whisper, the exhaustion in my voice melting into raw intensity. “I’m alive. You’re here. You held me. That’s all that matters. You’re my anchor, Ellie. Always have been. Always will be.”
She lets out a long, shaky breath and finally allows herself to relax in my arms. I feel the tension leave her body, the storm in her chest slowly easing. I hold her close, letting the warmth of her presence anchor me too.
I turn her face toward mine. “You…saved my life,” I murmur, my voice rough with exhaustion and gratitude.
Her lips curl slightly, but before I can linger on the moment, I tilt her face gently and press mine to hers. She meets me like she’s been starving for it, and for a heartbeat, everything else—the pain, the chaos, the fear—disappears.
A knock on the door makes us pull apart slowly. Timofey steps in, nodding toward Ellie with a small, respectful smile. “Evening, Ellie. How’s he doing?”
Ellie smiles. “He’s better now.”
I shake my head. “I am.”
Timofey’s eyes shift toward me, serious, calculating. “I’ve been digging into what happened earlier. There’s something you need to know.”
I sit up immediately, pulse spiking despite the soreness. “What is it?”
He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “The woman…she didn’t escape alone.”
Ellie stiffens beside me, and I glance at her sharply. Timofey continues, “Security footage shows she had help—someone assisted her after Sergei’s death. I traced the movements back…to your lab, Ellie.”
Ellie’s eyes widen. “What does that mean?” she whispers, fear and confusion threading her voice.
Timofey’s jaw tightens. “It means someone you know, someone inside your circle.”
She frowns. “I don’t understand.”
Timofey exhales. “It’s Samantha.”
Chapter 17 – Ellie
Samantha?
I refuse to believe it. My mind refuses to let the pieces fit together. Samantha? Samantha—my friend, the one I trusted from the very beginning? The one who laughed with me, celebrated promotions with me, and shared late-night lab breakthroughs?
I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of the screen in front of me. Timofey has been meticulous, and he explains how he uncovered every trace of evidence: communication pings between Samantha and the woman who orchestrated the kidnapping, financial transfers disguised as research reimbursements, and timing that lines up with the sniper attack weeks ago. Every piece of evidence screams betrayal, and yet my heart refuses to accept it.
I feel small. Foolish. Used. The warmth of friendship, the ease of shared jokes and late nights in the lab—all of it now feels like a cruel mask hiding something far darker. My stomach twists, and I taste bile.
Mike doesn’t speak at first. He doesn’t need to. His arms are around me, strong and steady, pressing me against him as I start to unravel. I can feel the quiet thrum of his heart through his chest, a reminder that at least he hasn’t betrayed me.
I let go of whatever composure I had left and collapse into him. My body trembles, tears soaking the fabric of his shirt. He rocks me gently, whispering my name, letting me break while he absorbs the storm.
“I…I trusted her,” I manage to choke out, voice barely a whisper against his chest. “All this time…she was—she was planning this?”
Mike tightens his grip. “Yes,” he says softly, almost brutally calm. “But you’re here. You’re safe. That’s what matters now.”
I press my face into his neck, clinging to him like a lifeline. For the first time since the attacks began, I feel the overwhelming weight of betrayal pressing down.
I pull back slightly, my eyes red and raw, and Timofey leans in, his voice gentle but firm. “Ellie…Samantha has been taken into custody for questioning.”
I stiffen. My chest tightens. “I…I need to see this,” I whisper. “I need to see for myself. I need to know it’s real.”
Mike’s hand slides into mine, firm and grounding. “You’re not going alone,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
