Page 147 of Stolen Empire
And I can't let my mother go through the same torture I went through.
My instinct to protect her and survive kicks in and before I realize what I'm doing, I'm on my feet and moving toward the door.
My hand reaches for the deadbolts, and some rational part of my brain screams at me to stop.
But the fear is stronger than rationality right now.
The fear of dying without answers.
The fear of never seeing my mother again.
The fear that they'll harm her.
I slide the first deadbolt open.
Then the second.
The door swings inward, and cold air rushes in from the hallway.
I step out into the hall with my heart hammering against my ribs.
The elevator is twenty feet away.
I could be in it and gone before Dimitri even finishes his shower.
I could disappear into the city, find a way to Perm, talk to my mother and convince her that the two of us need to flee, St. Petersburg maybe, or even out of the country.
I make it to the elevator and press the button.
The numbers above the doors light up as it climbs toward this floor.
My hands shake as I wrap my arms around myself. I'm wearing nothing but one of Dimitri's shirts and a pair of borrowed boxers, and I start to second-guess this.
I don't have my phone or my wallet or anything that would help me survive on my own.
I'm impulsive and stupid and I need to go back and get my clothes.
But maybe that doesn't matter.
Maybe I just need to get out before the Radiches find me here.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.
I stare into the empty car, my feet rooted to the carpet.
This is my chance.
This is the moment where I choose to run or choose to stay.
If I step into that elevator, I'm choosing my mother and the life I used to have.
If I turn around and go back into the apartment, I'm choosing Dimitri and the violence and the danger that comes with being Ekaterina Morozova.
I think about my mother in that yellow building with blue shutters.
I imagine knocking on her door and seeing her face when she realizes it's me.
Would she be happy?
