50
Chloe
“Stop it, Chloe,” Alina snaps, and I realize I’ve resumed tapping my foot—a physical manifestation of my anxiety that inexplicably annoys her. In general, she’s more on edge than I’ve ever seen her, her own movements jerky and her spine so tense it’s a wonder she can turn her neck.
“Sorry about that.” I shift Slava so he’s sitting more comfortably on my lap. “I’m just worried for them.”
I’m holding the child as much to calm myself as to comfort him. In fact, out of the four of us, Slava is the least anxious—probably because he doesn’t understand the magnitude of the threat we’re facing. Lyudmila told him we’re here as part of a security drill, and though I’m sure he’s picking up on the adults’ tension, he hasn’t questioned the explanation.
I wish I could be calm as well, but
