She's so much more frail than I remember. She looks completely overwhelmed and she almost seems like she doesn't even remember me. How would that even be possible.
"We have to go," I say.
She doesn't respond.
I reach for her hand, and she flinches again. I see it, and it feels like a punch to the gut.
I freeze, my hand hovering in the space between us.
"Leni," I say and look at her.
She looks at my hand, then at my face, and after what feels like an eternity, she slowly reaches out and places her fingers in mine.
Her hand is freezing. Her fingers ice cold and limp in my hand.
I close my hand around hers, and I lead her forward, carefully stepping over Maxim's bleeding corpse.
I shut the door as best as I can, and we start walking.
The hallway is empty, but I can hear voices echoing from downstairs. There's shouting and commotion.
I keep Elena close, my grip on her hand firm but not tight. I don't want to scare her more than she already is.
We reach the back stairs, and I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone's come up the other way.
Elena moves beside me as we head down, silent, and her steps are stiff.
None of this is like her.
The Elena I knew was fire. She was loud and wild and full of life. She laughed too hard and argued too much and never, ever stayed quiet when something was wrong.
This version of her is, I don't know what. She'll be better once we're out of here.
We reach the ground floor, and the château is buzzing with confused energy. I can hear guards shouting orders, doors slamming, people running.
We join the crowds, and I see two women I freed from the basement running through the area, causing chaos.
Serves these sick fucks right.
I look around, and I spot Victor near the main entrance. He's standing with two Swiss officials, talking.
I wave him over.
Victor walks over to me, and I step aside, and he stops, his eyes going wide.
"Elena!"
She doesn't acknowledge him, and Victor looks at me, confusion on his face. I nod, and he looks down at the blood splattered across my cuffs.
"I released those girls," I say low enough that only he can hear. "And there's dead Russians upstairs. We need to go. Now."
Victor's jaw tightens, and he glances at Elena again. His gaze lingers on her face, taking in the woman we buried and all thought was dead until a few weeks ago.
"Okay, wait here," he says.
He turns and walks back toward the officials, who are now joined by a small crowd of people.
I turn away and look down at Elena.