Page 16 of Tracking Shadows

I look at him, surprised by the sudden admission. I can hear the rawness in his voice that cuts through the apathy I’ve come to expect from everyone here.

“I’m sorry,” I say because I don’t know what else to say. “That’s probably the story of everyone here. But sitting arounddoing nothing isn’t going to bring them back. You’ve got to keep going, even if it’s just to spite them.”

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine for the first time. There’s a fire in them, a spark of defiance.

“I’m going to get out of here,” he says. “Now or later, I don’t care. But I will escape.”

I blink, taken aback by the certainty in his tone. “Escape? Are you serious?”

He nods, not a trace of doubt in his expression. “I’m dead serious.”

For a moment, I just stare at him, wondering if he’s crazy or if he actually believes he can do it. But then I feel a smile tugging at my lips, and before I can stop myself, I’m laughing.

“Good luck with that,” I say, still chuckling. “But if you do manage to pull it off, you better take me with you.”

He looks at me for a long moment, and then, to my surprise, a small smile creeps onto his face. “Sure. Why not?”

I grin, holding out my hand. “I’m Alexei, by the way.”

He hesitates for just a second before taking my hand in a firm grip. “Dmitri.”

“Nice to meet you, Dmitri,” I say, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie with this guy I’ve just met. “I guess we’re in this together now, huh?”

We shake on it, sealing the promise with a firm grip. It’s a small gesture, but it feels significant, like something important has just happened.

After that, Dmitri and I become friends, or as close to friends as you can get in a place like this. And as the days go by, I start to believe that maybe, just maybe, Dmitri is right. Maybe there is a way out of this place, a way to escape the nightmare that we’ve both been trapped in for so long. I start to have hope again. Because in a place like this, hope is the only thing we have left.

And I’m not about to let it slip through my fingers.

***

The sizzle of oil in the pan and the aroma of frying onions fill the small safe house kitchen, creating a rare moment of normalcy amidst the chaos that has become my life. I hum quietly to myself, stirring the onions, watching them turn golden brown. It’s a simple task, but I find comfort in it. Cooking reminds me of home, of better days, long before my world fell apart.

I’m flipping the eggs, adding a pinch of salt and pepper, when I hear the door creak open behind me. I glance over my shoulder and nearly drop the spatula.

Irina walks into the kitchen, her gym clothes clinging to her like a second skin. She’s covered in sweat, her hair damp and pulled back into a messy ponytail, her cheeks flushed from exertion. She’s all lean muscle and determination, and fuck if she isn’t the most stunning thing I’ve seen in a long time.

I swallow hard, forcing my gaze back to the stove, but it’s too late. The image of her is already burned into my brain, and my thoughts take a dangerous turn.

“Morning, sunshine,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual, though my pulse is hammering in my ears. “Get a good workout in?”

She doesn’t answer, just grabs a glass from the counter and fills it with water, downing it in one go. I watch her throat work as she drinks, my eyes tracing the curve of her neck, the way her skin glistens with sweat.

Jesus, I need to get a grip.

“Breakfast?” I offer, holding up the pan with a hopeful smile.

She glances at the food, then at me, her expression unreadable. “I don’t have time for that. We need to talk.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning disappointment. “And here I thought we connected yesterday. I guess I’ll just have to eat all this by myself, lonely and unloved.”

“Grow up, Romanov,” she snaps, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—amusement, maybe? I like to think so. “We need to figure out how we’re going to infiltrate that warehouse.”

I shrug, flipping the eggs onto a plate. “I’ve always got a plan, darling. You just need to trust me.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Trust you? That’s rich, coming from the guy who almost got himself killed yesterday.”

I roll my eyes, setting the plate down on the table. “Come on, Irina. You’ve got to admit, I’ve got a way with these things. And look, I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

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