Aria’s POV
The gate cameras showed her before we reached the door — a woman collapsed against the iron bars, soaked from the rain that had started sometime during Romeo’s interrogation. Her blonde hair lay plastered dark against her skull.
Even ruined and shaking, she looked exactly like her photograph.
“Stay behind me,” Romanov said, already moving.
For once I didn’t argue. Whatever courage I’d found over the last week didn’t stretch far enough to walk toward a ghost.
The guards had her sitting upright by the time we reached the gatehouse, a blanket around her shoulders that did nothing to stop her trembling. Up close, Elena Voss looked less like the polished woman in Romanov’s file and more like someone who had been running for a very long time. Her nails were broken. A bruise bloo
