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Sara
Peter is careful with me tonight, unusually gentle, and for once, the tenderness is exactly what I want. Ever since this morning, when he told me he’s leaving for London, I’ve been paralyzed with fear, so terrified for him that I can scarcely breathe.
He’s still not fully healed, though he acts as if the wounds don’t matter. Over the past two days, he’s resumed training with Anton and the twins, performing feats of strength and endurance that few uninjured athletes could’ve matched. Despite that, I’m acutely aware that he’s not superhuman—that he can bleed and die from bullets, just like anyone.
I spoke to Nora after lunch, while Peter was finalizing the logistics with her husband and the others. She was outwardly calm, but I could tell that she was just as worried, her anxiety
