Elena
I’ve lost everything, and now I’m being traded to the Bratva for peace.
When I step out in the next dress, the room goes utterly silent, save for the soft rustle of fabric against the floor. It’s the kind of silence that stretches, heavy and full of awe, until it’s broken by a collective gasp. Even Kathy, who has maintained a carefully neutral demeanor throughout this ordeal, lets out a soft “oh” as she presses her hand lightly to her chest. The sound surprises me almost as much as the expression on Ana’s face—a rare, fleeting look of admiration that she doesn’t try to hide.
I don’t want to feel anything. I’ve done my best to keep myself numb, detached, locked away from the spectacle of this day. But when I catch sight of myself in the mirror, a faint flutter stirs in my stomach,
