***He lit his second cigarette. The flame bit into the tip, slow and hungry, while his fingers pressed against his temples. A cold, fractured smile ghosted across his lips—like a spark of madness, here and gone.
In a low murmur, tasting the words like sin:
Why the confusion? Hesitation is useless… Sooner or later, I'll end him. Blood debts are never forgiven—they weigh heavier than betrayal.
Smoke slipped from his mouth, a slow, deliberate coil twisting into the darkness. He reached for the phone.
— "Karol. Where are you?"
— "North of Warsaw, sir."
— "Good. Forget Rzeszów—the plan's changed."
— "Something happen?"
— "Reach the Kaliningrad border before Kazimir."
— "Sir,please....… don't make me deal with him."
— "Karol, don't make me repeat myself. You must get there first. And this stays between us—no one knows. Not even Kazimir. Two people you trust, no more. When you're close, I'll signal the border team. Clear?"
— "…...Clear, sir."
****Along the road, the car cut its way through the shroud of the long night, the shadows along the roadside flickering past like frames from an old film—ghostly glimpses merging with memories of the orphanage.
Stray thoughts pursued her like restless phantoms: Is this truly her new life? And what of the children left behind? Could she not do something—anything—for them?
But Bill had told her to keep silent.
She drew in a slow breath, as though weighing the thought in her chest: Could silence be the price of safety?
Drowsiness pressed gently at the edges of her awareness. The blanket's warmth curled around her, pulling her downward until her thoughts slid into the dark.
A short snore broke the quiet. Malik glanced over, thinking it came from Mikael, but Mikael—his eyes still closed—lifted a hand and pointed toward Karina.
A faint smile curved Bill's lips.
— "She's asleep… and with her, those watchful eyes have closed."
Mikael looked at her for a moment, then adjusted her head to a more comfortable position.
The low hum of the engine stretched onward, unhurried, like a quiet stream—until it seemed time itself had stopped.
And she… slept, while silent tears traced down her cheeks.
Inside her, one question refused to rest: How could she choose silence, knowing their voices were still out there—waiting to be saved? How could she leave them to the slow swallowing of oblivion?
In the depths of her mind, faint, familiar voices lingered. One unseen hand pulled her back toward the orphanage walls and the smell of cold bread, while another pushed her toward a warm promise she did not yet trust to be real.
Sleep was gentler than thought, yet it could not soften the thorn lodged in her heart.
*****Not far from the orphanage, Szymon emerged from the darkness. The building was lit more than usual.
He approached slowly, panting, tears mixing with his ragged breaths. The pressure of them blurred his vision, but he kept moving forward.
Through the glass, he saw Lina carrying heavy items, and then Filip appeared to help her.
He looked around nervously, then knocked on the glass hard. Once… twice…
Filip noticed him and shouted, but Szymon motioned for silence, pressing a hand to his mouth, glancing around in fear, as if Mir or Magda might be lurking nearby.
Filip and Lina rushed out toward him, surprise crossing his face—how had they managed to get out like this?
— "Ah, Szymon, where have you been?" Filip said, his voice both angry and anxious.
— "But… how did you…?" Szymon muttered before Filip cut him off.
— "Come in, you look like you're about to collapse."
As soon as he stepped inside, Filip embraced him, his entire body trembling, and words burst from his lips like bullets:
— "I couldn't find her… Impossible!?"
But almost immediately, he looked around and asked, "Where is she? Don't tell me she's asleep," referring to Karina.
The silence that followed was heavier than any reply.
Filip stepped back, head lowered, sorting through things without answering.
Szymon turned to Lena and repeated, "Didn't I ask?"
Even Lina joined Filip in avoiding his gaze.
— "My God… she's not here, is she?" he said, assuming she had followed him.
Then, in a quiet voice, Filip told him what had happened—that she had left willingly, and there was nothing they could do to stop her.
Things had gotten worse…
And Karina was next.
Moments of utter loss spread across his face, helplessness consuming him, a fleeting memory of a friend flashing before his eyes.
He could not believe what he'd heard.
Silence weighed heavily until he finally lifted his head, looked at them, and asked in a trembling voice:
— "And you? What will you do?"
Lina's eyes remained steady as she replied:
— "If nothing happens by tomorrow, we'll take everyone out of here. That's enough." Her voice quivered slightly.
— "We've gathered everything we can sell, and we'll search through Mir's belongings for any money. We won't go to the police… but to another orphanage. Somewhere far… safe."
(Lina and Filip had agreed to head toward a well-known orphanage in the town of Konstancin-Jeziorna near Warsaw—a place famous for its wealth, luxurious villas, and pure air.
There stood the "House of Hope," founded by a generous woman named Nova Sobieska. A renowned star, her photos had appeared in newspapers as she embraced children with a radiant smile, and the radio and television often spoke of her as a symbol of kindness and generosity.
For years, Lina had kept an old newspaper clipping about this place, showing wide, spotless rooms and children in warm clothes, laughing freely)
She said to Filip, her fingers tightening around the fragile paper as though it were pulling them toward salvation:
— "Only there… will we find safety."
Her voice carried certainty, yet deep inside, their faint hearts knew—what awaited them might not bloom as they dreamed.
After their restless search, silence once again strangled the orphanage. Lina approached the table where the phone rested, stared at it for a long time, then murmured hesitantly:
— "You know… Magda left right after that strange call… I remember the exact time."
Her words trembled as she added: — "What if…!"
Anxious lines marked her face. She reached for the phone, reconnected it, and opened the call log. Numbers scrolled past until she stopped at an unknown entry—logged at the exact moment Magda had vanished.
Szymon stepped closer, his heart pounding: — "Is this it?"
A suffocating silence fell. Then Lina suddenly whispered: — "Wait… what if we call the number?"
Filip protested quickly, anxiety sharp in his voice: — "That would be giving ourselves away… showing them we know what's happening!"
Lina faltered, then said boldly: — "I'll mimic Mir's voice… she works for them, maybe they'll believe me."
Filip cried out in fear: — "You're insane! They'll see through you instantly!"
But Szymon, his sorrowful eyes fixed on her, nodded in agreement, thinking to himself: "There is no other way… for him, even the faintest glimmer of hope is enough."
Lina dialed, her heart hammering. The phone rang and rang… no answer. She tried again. A second time. A third. Still, silence.
Filip exhaled in relief: — "That's better for us."
He had barely turned to leave when the phone rang again, shattering the silence. Their breath caught, suspended in their throats. In a heartbeat, Lina seized the receiver, every gaze locked on her.
A firm woman's voice cut through: — "Yes?"
Lina slipped into Mir's tone, hesitant: — "Hello… sorry, I called without notice. Is the boss available?"
The secretary's voice tightened: — "The boss is in a meeting. But who am I speaking with?… Are you Madam Magda?"
Lina hesitated—she had to choose, for perhaps this was a trap, and Madam Magda's whereabouts were still unknown. Yet she steeled herself and replied swiftly:
— "No… I'm Mir. You may not know me, but I work at the orphanage under Madam Magda's supervision… I was recruited by your people years ago. That's all I can reveal for now, madam. I only called regarding certain information—I mean, sensitive documents. But… could I know your location?"
The secretary's voice cut in, sharp and laced with suspicion:
— "Our location? Isn't it rather strange for you to ask such a question?"
Lina stammered, glancing at Filip for courage. He urged her on. So she rushed: — "Forgive me, I didn't mean it. Normally I exchange information only by phone… but this time I have something to offer, and it cannot be explained here."
A silence lingered. Then the woman's tone softened, tinged with greed:
("Information"… perhaps documents Magda collected about them?)
I see. Fine. We can meet tomorrow morning, early… at the Kryształ Café near the Pałac Korony Hotel."
The line went dead. The children exchanged stunned looks, fear thickening in the air.
Shadows of sorrow fell across Szymon's face. This was not what he had sought; the call had yielded nothing, only deepened the abyss of danger around them. The gang might come themselves, to seize the documents by force—merciless and unrestrained.
Filip wrenched the phone from Lina's hand: — "Enough, Lina… no more calls. We're in real danger now. We must move early tomorrow."
Everyone scattered to prepare for departure. Only Szymon lingered, trapped between thoughts of his missing sister and "Karina," who had vanished in a blink.
Lina tried to distract him with chores: — "Go to Mir's room… empty her bags and bring them."
...While taking turns to check the surroundings, Lina glanced out the window. Suddenly she froze, her voice trembling: — "Look, Filip! That car… it wasn't there before!"
Filip hurried to her side, staring into the dark: — "What do we do?… My God, are we being watched?"
Lina whispered, her voice barely audible:
— "I'll tell Szymon."
Filip's hand shot out, stopping her. His eyes were firm.
— "No… he's far too reckless, and he's endured enough already. Let me go—just to make sure."
She froze, torn by doubt, then finally gave a faint nod.
— "But… promise me you won't go too close."
From the window, she watched him slip into the depths of the night, clutching his knife. The shadows swallowed him little by little. Filip faltered for a moment… wasn't it the same one? Yes—it was the very car that had taken Magda and Karina! What was it doing here? Curiosity gnawed at him from within until it drove him closer, step by step, until he reached the car.
A storm of dreadful thoughts seized his mind: Were they still inside? Had they been killed? Taken captive? He circled the car cautiously, clinging to his resolve… but it was empty.
Then, out of the darkness, a shadow emerged, and a mocking voice rose:
— "Well… isn't it dangerous for you to be outside the orphanage?"
Filip's body stiffened. A terrifying scream burst from his throat… only to be smothered at once, leaving the night to swallow its echo.
Time dragged mercilessly. He did not return...