I press my lips together, unsure of whether we are being listened to.
“I can’t leave. Not without you.”
Vanya’s composure wavers, her eyes boring into my soul.
“You would stay. Even if we must fight for the rest of our lives? Even if we die?”
“Especially if we die. I don’t think I’d be able to go anywhere after that,” I barely keep from smiling.
“Shut up, jackass.”
“It’s pronounced Shakal. And the words youmeantto say were?—”
“I love you.”
No torture, no shock, no pain could ever hit me harder than her words. Only these are devastating in a totally different way.
I pull her into my arms, holding her to my chest.
“I love you too, Vanya. And we are blood. Forever.”
“Navsegda.” She nods, closing her eyes.
“Van, look…” I pull away a fraction, holding up my hand. A tiny dot of sunlight forms a faint dot on my arm from a crack in the ceiling near the back corner.
“It’s daytime.” She breathes, tears forming at the edges of her lids.
“Don’t start, or I’ll start.”
“I will cry if I want to.”
“Is it the torture? Or my breath?”
“Both. Quiet, someone is coming.” She raises a hand.
“Get ready. If it’s the masked mannequin, I’ma kick him in the balls.”
But it’s more than just one set of boots. And Black Parade isn’t among them. Just your average, lower-level soldiers. Although, these guys dress a lot differently than the mugs we’ve seen so far. More like…palace guards.
Each of them carries an assault rifle, not to mention the way they walk.
Military, for sure. Or ex-military.
The lead guy motions for us to come with them and at this point, I don’t see the point in putting up a fight. At least until they try to line us up for the firing squad.
The passageway is old stone, simple. It’s definitely day outside. Windows with bars high up on the walls let through golden beams. Never thought I’d be so happy to see the sun in my life.
Except for the blinding retinal explosion a moment later when they guide us through a steel door. Stairs flash red behind my eyelids as I clamp them shut.
Even in the tunnel, it’s more than I was ready for.
Vanya grunts at my side, experiencing the same overwhelming sensation.
Squinting, we place one foot in front of the next, until we are out in the open. Fresh breeze hits my face and I pause in the middle of the yard. It’s a perfect day outside. Sunny. Cool.
“Holy shit that feels good.”
“Not as nice as Russian weather, but I agree.”