She imagined it in quick, fractured flashes.Lena pictured herself lunging forward, catching him off guard, grabbing the device, bolting for the door, and not looking back.
Freedom.The word burned through her like oxygen.Then another memory rose up, quieter, steadier.
Her father’s voice.You don’t walk away when someone needs help, Lena.Not if you can do something about it.
She clenched her jaw.This wasn’t the same, because Maksim wasn’t some stranger on the side of the road or a neighbor who needed fixing up after a fall.
This was the man who had taken her.The man who had killed someone in front of her without blinking.Maksim was the very reason she was trapped here in the first place.
He deserved nothing from her, not help or an ounce of kindness.Certainly not mercy.Lena flicked her gaze back to him.
He had braced a hand against the wall now, just briefly, like even standing upright required more effort than he would ever admit.There was fresh blood on his fingers.
Her stomach twisted, because he looked worse up close.
Not weak, never that, but strained in a way that made something inside her chest tighten despite herself.Leave him.Take your chance.
Her pulse hammered louder.She could still do it, and Lena really should, but too bad her feet didn’t move.
Because that other instinct, the one her father had drilled into her so deeply it had become part of her bones, refused to stay quiet.
Helping others always came first, even when it was inconvenient and undeserved, and it didn’t matter if she hated Maksim with every fiber of her being.
Lena let out a quiet, frustrated breath, anger flashing hot and sharp through her veins.
“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath.
She hated herself more, loathed that this was who she was, and she couldn’t just turn it off, even now, even here.She unclenched her fingers slowly.The moment passed.
The escape she had almost taken slipping through her grasp like something fragile and fleeting.
“Sit,” she said instead.
The word came out sharper than she intended.Maksim’s gaze flicked to her, something unreadable passing through his eyes.He didn’t move.
Lena swallowed, forcing herself to step closer despite every warning screaming in her head.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, quieter now, as if stating the obvious might make the situation more manageable.
“I noticed.”Even now, his voice was steady.That irritated her more than it should have.
“Where’s the first aid kit?”she demanded.
A pause.Then, reluctantly, he nodded toward the bathroom.
“Cabinet.”
That was all she needed.
Lena moved quickly, pushing past him, grabbing the kit with hands that felt steadier than her thoughts.She returned just as he lowered himself onto the chair by the table.
Up close, it looked worse.The blood wasn’t just surface level.It had soaked through, clinging to the fabric, marking something deeper underneath.
Her stomach twisted.
“What happened?”she asked as she set the kit down.
“An error.”