Page 69
Survival.
Life.
I could choose life.
Because change was coming either way, whether I welcomed it or not. Time would move. The world would keep turning. Nothing I did could stop that.
The only thing I could decide was how I met it. On my knees, waiting for the world to decide my fate for me… Or on my feet, finally brave enough to decide it for myself.
16
ADRIANA
Exhaustion had settled so deeply into my bones that even lifting my eyes felt like an insurmountable task. And yet, no one suggested going to bed. Somehow, it seemed the night was only just beginning.
We had each claimed our own space in the sitting room, now crowded with Zeno and Demitri as well. The atmosphere was quieter than before, but there was still an underlying tension that refused to loosen its grip.
Ayla sat beside me on the sofa, studying me with the same sharp concentration Zeno had given the road earlier. Her eyes moved over my face, my hair, taking in details I had stopped noticing myself.
“You’re too recognizable,” she announced suddenly.
My hand rose to my hair before I could stop it.
Demitri stood near the windows with his arms folded across his chest, dressed once again in dark civilian clothes. He had showered and changed, but the exhaustion remained carved into the shadows beneath his eyes.
He had not put the collar back on.
I was beginning to hate how aware I was of its absence.
Ayla tilted her head, studying my face from another angle. “The bruising can be covered. Your clothes are ordinary enough. But your hair and your face are memorable.”
“That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“It was.”
The corner of my mouth lifted despite the exhaustion pressing down on me.
“You need to look like someone no one would remember seeing.”
Zeno looked at her. Ayla met his gaze. Nothing was said, yet something passed between them. A warning. An argument. Perhaps a memory. They seemed capable of holding entire conversations without moving their mouths, communicating in the smallest shifts of their expressions and the slightest flicker of their eyes.
“I don’t care what you do to it.” My fingers remained tangled in the ends of my hair, betraying just how serious I was. “I’ll cut all of it off if that’s what it takes to keep us alive.”
Demitri’s arms tightened across his chest. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but I saw it.
“Nothing that drastic,” Ayla countered. “Bianca would never forgive me for allowing an exhausted woman to make an irreversible decision.”
“Bianca?” Demitri asked.
“My hairdresser.”
His gaze sharpened immediately. “You’re taking her into town?”
Ayla raised one eyebrow. “No. She’s coming here.”
“Who knows she’s coming?”
“Bianca. Me. Zeno. And now everyone in this room.”
