Because this isn’t where I win.
Before I can brace myself, he hoists me up, throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. The movement knocks the breath out of me for a second, disorienting, humiliating—
But I stay still.
Still.
Still.
He moves toward the window, stepping over shattered glass like it’s nothing. The night air rushes in, cold against my skin. Smoke still lingers outside, mixing with the distant sound of gunfire that hasn’t stopped.
The rope hangs where he came from.
Of course it does.
This was planned. Every second of it.
My chest tightens.
This night, it feels too familiar.
Too much like the night my father died.
The same helpless pull. The same sense of being taken while everything burns around me.
I close my eyes as Anton begins his descent, the shift of his weight and the tension of the rope making every second feel dangerously unsteady.
For a brief, reckless moment, I think about letting go. Letting myself fall. Ending it before he can take anything else from me. Before he can touch what’s mine.
But the thought passes as quickly as it comes.
No.
That’s not how this ends.
I force my breathing to steady despite the position, despite the drop beneath me, despite the war still raging above.
Going with him isn’t defeat. It’s a move.
A dangerous one. But not the last.
I will find my way back.
I have to.
For my father.
For my child.
For…my husband.
My fingers curl slightly against Anton’s back, not in surrender, but in quiet resolve.
My father taught me how to survive.
How to endure.
How to fight when it matters most.
