Elena's face pales.
"They were giving it to the girls we found," I say in a deep tone. "Low doses to make them compliant. High doses to make them forget. It seems it keeps you awake but dissociated. You can walk, talk, follow orders, but you don't really feel anything."
Elena's breathing quickens.
"Yep, that's what it was," she says. "That's what it did to me."
Her voice cracks on the last word, and I see the trauma spike in her face, sharp and raw.
She shrinks back against the headboard, her arms pulling tighter around her knees, her eyes going distant.
"What happens to me now?" she asks, her voice small and terrified.
My chest tightens.
"What?"
"What happens to me? Am I damaged?" she repeats, louder this time.
The question slams into me like a freight train.
I hate that the Volkovs put that in her head. That they made her believe she could even be anything but perfect.
I hate seeing the fear return to her eyes, the same fear I saw at the château when she didn't recognize me, when she flinched away from my touch.
Now more than ever, I want to reach out and grab her. Protect her.
God help me, I want to pull her into my lap and kiss her until she forgets every terrible thing that's happened. I want to bury myself inside her, claim her, remind her that she's mine and no one else's.
I want to feel her again, to hear her gasp my name, to see her come undone beneath me.
My goddess.
But at the same time, Victor's stupid, annoying words echo in my head.
Help her first. Then yourself.
Fucking Victor.
I take a slow breath, forcing the hunger down, burying it deep where it can't hurt her.
Elena needs me to be her anchor right now.
So instead of pulling her into my lap, I reach out slowly and cup her jaw gently, my palm warm against her cool skin, and I tilt her face toward mine, forcing her to look me dead in the eye.
"Absolutely not. You never could be," I say, my voice firm and absolute. "You're with me. Now and forever, no matter what."
Her lips part. "Adi..."
"We are going home to Romania," I continue, my thumb brushing lightly across her lips. "You're going to see your family. Your parents. Stefania. You're going to sleep in our bed, eat your mother's cooking, and never look over your shoulder again."
Tears well in her eyes, but she doesn't blink.
"And the Volkovs?" she asks in a low tone.
My jaw ticks.
"I'm going to make sure there are no Volkovs left."