Yelena stood perfectly still, her hand resting lightly on the edge of the hospital bed. Though the muscles in her jaw twitched slightly, her expression remained neutral, her eyes calm like the surface of a still lake.
But Mika, sitting close to her, could tell, he'd known her long enough, that underneath that serene exterior, she was seething.
It wasn't often Yelena was angry.
But to have her precious time with Mika, her long-awaited chance to see him, hold him, check for herself that he was truly alright, rudely interrupted by a mob of insatiable reporters barging into her room?
It was infuriating...Anyone else in her position would have started shouting, waving their hands, and slamming the door in their faces.
But Yelena wasn't "anyone else." She drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, centering herself.
Her voice came out smooth, polished, and neutral, carrying a quiet authority that made the closest few reporters flinch.
