“You’re doing better than you think, Mom,” Kira said, her voice gentle and certain. “I see it. I feel it. I believe in you.”
Irina’s lips trembled into a smile. “I’m trying, baby. I really am.”
Kira leaned in, squeezing her hands. “We’ll bring you home soon. Just stay strong a little longer.”
We said our goodbyes slowly, Kira lingering in her mother’s arms as if afraid to let go. She whispered that she’d be back soon, as often as she could. We’d bring Irina home, no question—but until then, if Kira wanted to visit every day, I’d make damn sure she could.
Kira’s hand slipped into mine as we walked back toward reception, her steps a little lighter than when we’d come in. But before we reached the doors, I nodded toward the cushioned bench in the waiting area.
“Sit here a minute,” I told her. “There’s one last thing I need to do.”
She gave me a look. “What?”
“Just wait,” I said, brushing a hand along her jaw. “Two minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”
She sighed and sank onto the bench, eyeing me like she half-expected me to come back covered in blood.
Maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong.
I strode straight to the administrator’s office and pushed the door open. He was at his desk, sipping coffee, and nearly choked on it when he saw me.
He looked up and visibly paled, throat bobbing in a dry swallow, his fingers twitching around the mug as if debating whether to throw it or drop it.
I shut the door behind me with a soft click, then leaned my shoulder casually against it.
“Relax,” I said, flashing him a grin that wasn’t friendly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He swallowed hard, his hands gripping the arms of his chair like I’d pull out a machete.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I went on, strolling across the room like I owned it. “I just came to say... good job.”
His brow furrowed. “I… I’m sorry?”
I dropped into the chair across from him, boots stretched out like I had all the time in the world. “You’ve been a good boy. Irina’s improving. Eating. Speaking. Drawing. Healing. That’s what we wanted, isn’t it?”
He gave a rapid series of nervous nods, lips twitching like he didn’t know if he was about to be praised or dismembered.
“So here’s the thing,” I said, resting an elbow on his desk and leaning in just enough for him to smell the leather and smoke clinging to my coat. “I’ll be taking her out of here soon. Let’s say… one month.”
He blinked. “O—Of course. Absolutely.”
“Perfect,” I murmured, tapping the desk once. “Now don’t fuck it up. Keep her well-fed. Medicated. Seen. Heard. Cared for.Because when I walk through that door again, I want to see a woman, not a shadow of one.”
He nodded so fast it looked like his neck might snap. I almost pitied the guy.
“You think you can be a good boy for one more month?” I asked, voice laced with sarcasm.
“Yes. Yes, absolutely,” he croaked.
I stood, smoothing out my coat. “Keep this up and I might actually stop fantasizing about gutting you.”
I moved to the door, then paused with my hand on the knob and looked back at him.
“Oh, and a friendly reminder,” I tilted my head, smile gone. “Let her decline, and I swear, I won’t need weapons. Just imagination. I’ll make your worst fear beg for mercy.”
He didn’t respond. I think he’d stopped breathing.
“See you in a month,” I said cheerfully, and left.
