She looked up, her eyes bright with madness and hope.
Lena: “No. But maybe it’ll make you need me.”
They sat in silence.
The river flowed.
The poison numbed.
The path narrowed as Lena pushed the wheelchair further through the trees. Twigs cracked beneath their feet, birds scattered at the sound of rusted wheels rolling through damp soil. Ivan’s head lolled slightly, the poison dragging down his strength, his muscles soft and slow.
But his mind—
Still sharp.
Ivan Volk
He watched every movement she made. Every twitch in her fingers, every shift in her tone.
Ivan (hoarse): “Where are you taking me now, Lena?”
Comments