I see this clearly, but my mind refuses to accept this as truth. This can’t be Ella. This broken woman cannot be her.
Slumping to my knees by her bedside, I brush the matted hair from her face with trembling fingers, but it sticks to the coagulated blood. “Прости меня, любовь моя. Я подвел тебя.”
Forgive me, my love. I failed you.
I can’t stop the guttural cry as I lower my chin, defeated. Gently gripping her limp hand in mine, I silently promise to protect her with my last dying breath.
“You can go to my mother’s. No one will find you there,” Pavel offers, but I shake my head.
“No, I refuse to put another life in harm’s way. I have to disappear.”
Squeezing Ella’s cold hand, I beg she takes my strength to heal.
“I can help with that, but it’ll take time to organize passports, ID—”
