[Evelina's POV—Warehouse—Continuation]
The rope finally gave way.
The fibers loosening under patience and blood and stubborn will. I stilled my hands immediately, letting them hang limp again, breathing shallowly and slowly.
I rose silently, knees protesting, wrists screaming, and crossed the short distance to Alina. My fingers worked fast, loosening the rope biting into her skin.
"Sweetheart," I whispered, low and steady, "stay behind me. No matter what."
She nodded instantly. No questions. No tears.
Good.
I scanned the room—two chairs, frayed rope, rusted walls. Nothing else. No mercy here. Just a cage pretending to be a room.
Then—footsteps. Muffled voices through the wooden door.
"Boss is out for ten minutes," one man muttered. "Keep an eye on them."
Ten minutes.
That was an eternity.
That was nothing. This was our window—before Cassian came back to enjoy the ending he thought he owned.
I grabbed one of the chairs, fingers tightening around cold metal legs.
