Completely still.
My hands rest in my lap, fingers curled just enough to keep feeling in them. My breathing slows deliberately—controlled, measured.
Panic is useless.
Fear is a weapon—just not one I can let turn on me.
I listen instead.
Voices. Low. Careless. They think I’m contained now. That I’m already broken into compliance.
Good.
Let them think that.
I sit there in the darkness, the fabric of the bag brushing lightly against my lips with every breath, and I hold onto one thing.
I will overcome this.
I am capable.
Chapter 28 – Timofey
I burst into the room.
The door slams against the wall so hard it cracks.
My eyes scan everything at once—fast, precise, brutal in how quickly they process what matters and discard what doesn’t.
Bed.
Floor.
Gun.
Window.
Shattered.
The cold air pouring in through it hits my face like confirmation before my mind even fully catches up.
She’s gone.
For a moment, everything stops.
No sound. No movement. No thought.
Just a single, hollow silence that stretches too far.
Then—
Rage detonates.
Not controlled. Not measured.
Violent. Immediate. Absolute.
I grab the nearest thing within reach—a chair—and hurl it across the room. It slams into the wall and splinters on impact.
