Page 59 of Under His Protection

Alexander and Isaac were prepared for this.

“Leave the credit cards,” Alexander says, his voice strained. “They can trace them. If they have Monroe— the whole police department is compromised.”

Isaac nods, furrowing his brow. He pulls the SUV to a stop in front of the station. The night air smells like diesel; the only sound is the wail of a distant train whistle. I look out of the car window. The station is a ghost town, a far cry from its usual hustle and bustle. A few figures move in the shadows, their forms indistinct. A homeless guy sleeps on a bench, his ragged clothes blending with the night. A stray cat slinks across the platform.

They won’t expect us to leave town, especially not in Alexanders condition, this is perfect.

Isaac changes clothes with Alexander. The scene is almost comical. Isaac, in the oversized hospital gown stained crimson, looks like a lost child in someone else’s clothes. On the other hand, Alexander looks almost normal in the suit despite the dark circles under his eyes and the lines of tension etched around his mouth. I watch as Alexander struggles with his tie, his movements are slow. I grab the medical pads he took before leaving the hospital. I change the pad on his wound, my fingers nimble, quickly wrapping it up with the tape from the old pad. My movements are automatic, and I finish quickly.

“The girls–” I begin as Alexander finishes his tie.

“They’re safe with me. Katerina and Zara are helping. They’ll be okay,” Isaac says.

"Don’t let them out of your sight, Isaac. I think that Port Haven isn't just a haven for criminals. It's a chessboard for a much larger game."

“I’ll keep things calm here,” Isaac say, and lays a hand on Alexander’s shoulder.

I hesitate for a moment, my hand on the door handle. “Thank you, Isaac,” I whisper, “For everything.”

He nods, his gaze meeting mine. Then, he turns away, his face hardening, his eyes scanning the street, ever vigilant.

We are out of the car, and Alexander exchanges a few words with Isaac, ending in a hug. The two of them are so different, yet so connected.

We start walking. Alexander leans heavily on me, his breathing shallow. I can almost feel the pain radiating from him, a wave of heat against my side.

“Where to?” I ask, my voice barely audible as I approach the automated ticket stand.

“Wherever you want,” he whispers, placing a cold kiss on my forehead. “As long as it’s west.”

“Why west?”

“I think we’ve had enough of the east, don’t you?” he says, his hand circling my waist, a possessive gesture sending me shivers of thrill.

The Veles Network, Russia, it’s all east, of course.

I chuckle, breathing, the tension in my jaw easing slightly. “Right.”

The machine spits out two tickets, a small victory in a world without certainty. We have about an hour to wait. I don’t think Monroe will come for us here. The train station is a ghost town at this hour, and the only movement is the occasional lone figure hurrying by. Still, I steer us to the far end of the platform, sheltered by a closed shop. Isaac is still in the car, I know he won’t leave until we are on the train. And I’m grateful for that.

“You think we can find somewhere with a bed,” I say, “and a pharmacy nearby?” I glance at his hip, the bandages sticking out underneath his shirt.

He chuckles a weak, painful sound. “Always practical, my Ava.” His gaze holds mine, his eyes dark and intense.

My Alexander.

We are free, for now, but the shadows of Port Haven will always haunt us. We are running, but we are not escaping. Yet, in this moment, we have each other. That, I know, is a truth that can never be taken away. A fragile anchor in a storm-tossed world.

Chapter 21

The Train

The train wheels pound a relentless rhythm against the tracks, a hypnotic beat that does little to soothe me.

I’m pressed against Alexander in the cramped train bathroom, our bodies a tangle of limbs and bandages. The stand smells like stale urine mingling with the faint smell of something almost— rotten.

I stand, my legs stiff from the cramped space, and press my face against the grimy window above the toilet. The city lights are a fading constellation of twinkling stars, slowly giving way to the vast, inky blackness of the countryside. The darkness is absolute, broken only by the occasional distant farmhouse.

We’re leaving it all behind. The thought brings a strange sense of peace. Port Haven, with its glittering facade and hidden underbelly of corruption and violence, is fading. It holds the ghosts of my past, the shattered remnants of my dreams, and Michelle’s cold, lifeless shell. But it no longer holds Alexander.

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