“She’s an orphan.She needs somewhere safe.”
Sister Ana studied her, her slow, careful eyes too perceptive.Then her eyes cut back to me.
“We’re not equipped for children.We can send her to an orphanage in the city.”
“No.”The word slipped out harsher than I intended.I forced my voice steady.“She stays here.”
Sister Ana lifted a brow.“You don’t usually make such direct requests, Atlas.Who is the girl to you?”
She looked her over slowly, taking in the dirt on her skin, the way she wouldn’t lift her head, the bloody nightgown hanging off one shoulder.Her expression tightened.Then her eyes snapped up to mine, more alert than before.
“I didn’t hurt her,” I snapped.“But she needs safety and a roof.That’s all I ask.”
“And why here?”
Because I had taken everything from her.Because I couldn’t undo the damage, but I could keep the world from finishing the job.Because leaving her at the mercy of strangers felt like more than my conscience could carry.
But I didn’t say any of that.My mind kept running, and I forced myself to look down at the girl again instead of answering what I was really thinking.
“She’ll be safe here,” and it was the only truth I was willing to offer.
Sister Ana looked at me a moment longer, like she was trying to see what was under my skin.She must not have liked what she found, because her expression softened into something that felt too close to pity.
“Very well,” she answered quietly, reluctantly.
I reached into my coat and pulled out an envelope.It was thick, heavy, more than enough to buy her silence.I handed it over.
“Her name?”Sister Ana asked.
I hesitated.Because I didn’t know it.And even if I did, saying it out loud made this real in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge.
“You’d have to ask her.”
Sister Ana nodded once.“We’ll take care of her.”
The girl didn’t move when the nun reached for her.She was frozen, stiff, staring at the ground.Sister Ana touched her shoulder gently and spoke in a soft voice.
It took a long moment before the girl’s feet started moving.She followed Sister Ana inside without looking back and the door shut behind them.
I stood there in the cold air, listening to the quiet.This should have felt like success.One loose end tied.One mistake buried.But as I walked back to the car, something sat heavy in my chest.I told myself it was nothing.That she was no threat.That this was mercy, nothing more.I told myself I’d forget what I’d done by morning.
But I knew I was lying.
4
Neve
The convent was nothing like home.
Home had noise.My mother’s voice, and the clatter of pans as she cooked and baked her famous scones.My father arguing in the next room, his soldiers laughing at something funny he’d said.
Here, everything was too quiet.The hallways felt hollow and empty.The walls echoed as my footsteps traversed the narrow halls.Even the air felt different, like I’d stepped into someone else’s life and couldn’t step back out.
I didn’t talk often.I didn’t trust my voice enough to try.
Sister Ana kept asking gentle questions like where I was from, if I was hungry, if I needed anything.I shook my head every time.The man who’d brought me here had spoken to her like they weren’t strangers to one another.If she was his friend, I shouldn’t trust her, either.Because he was definitely no friend of mine.
They gave me a small room with a narrow bed and a wooden dresser.Someone left folded clothes on the blanket; a simple nightgown, a pair of socks, a sweater.I sat on the edge of the bed and didn’t touch any of it.