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I don’t bother delaying the inevitable. I forward the email to the Tribunal immediately, with my assurances that I’ll follow up with them tomorrow.

Inside, I find Manuel in the office. He managed to restore the previously saved security footage from the hard drive, and he’s been combing over it for days while Nino is occupied with school or his other activities. We won’t be able to see what happened the day Gwen was here, but I’d like to know for certain if there’s anything else I need to be aware of.

“How is she?” I ask him as I take off my suit jacket and discard it on the chair.

He glances up at me with a grim expression. “Still the same, sir.”

I loosen my tie and then yank it off. “I’ll be moving her back to her room today.”

He stares at me curiously. “Okay. Would you still like me to check on her?”

“No. I will take care of it.”

He grunts and goes back to his work.

I venture to the kitchen, grab a pre-made lunch from the fridge, and head upstairs. Outside the door, I listen for Natalia, but it’s silent. I’ve avoided her since the boat incident, and I’m not certain how she’ll react when she does see me, but the clock is ticking, and I need to deal with this now.

I draw in a staggered breath and open the door. She’s sitting in a chair, staring out the window. Her hair is a tangled mess, a far cry from her usual styled bun, and she’s still wearing the sweats the hospital sent her home in. She doesn’t seem to hear me enter. She doesn’t acknowledge me at all, even as I walk around and stand directly in front of her.

“Natalia?”

Nothing. She gives me nothing. She stares through me, completely cut off from her surroundings.

“Natalia,” I say her name louder this time, but it still doesn’t elicit a response.

There’s a long, tense moment of silence as I consider how to handle this situation. I understand dissociation. I recognize the mechanism I’ve used myself many times throughout my life. If I had to guess, I suspect I probably looked just as she does now while I was recovering in the hospital, the sole survivor of my massacred family. The problem is, I don’t know how to pull her from it delicately.

I’m accountable for her current state. I accept full responsibility for it, and I have no desire to traumatize her further, but time isn’t favorable toward a gentle recovery. I need her alert and involved in the decision before I deliver it tomorrow.

Setting the sandwich aside, I see no other alternative. I bend down and scoop her into my arms. Her head lolls against my chest, and she does not make a sound as I carry her from the room and down the stairs. She feels too light, and it bothers me. I should have come to see her sooner. I should have forced her to eat if that’s what it took, but I can’t go back and change it now.

I open the door to the pool room and carry her over to the cold plunge. She still won’t look at me. Her eyes are unfocused, staring off into the distance as I walk down the stairs into the ice-cold water. When I lower myself and cover her body, it has the intended effect of shocking her back to life, but not in the way that I had hoped.

Her eyes are empty when they move to mine, and her voice is barely a whisper when she forces herself to speak.

“Kill me fast.”

She closes her eyes, and I adjust my grip on her, freeing one hand to stroke her face.

“Natalia.”

She shakes her head, refusing to look at me.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

Her teeth begin to chatter, but she opens her eyes, staring up at me with a fragility that makes my chest ache. I need to explain further, but first, I need to get her warm. I lift her into my arms again, cradling her against me as I exit the cold plunge and head for the shower. It takes me a minute to get it warm, and then I set her on her feet, leaving her in her soaked clothes as we stand beneath the spray together.

“You’re not giving up now.” I let the words settle between us as she hugs her arms to her chest.

She gives me a gentle nod.

“I was wrong.” My voice betrays the depth of my regret. “I know it now, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that happened to you. I’m sorry for what Enzo did, and I’m sorry that I made it worse.”

I’m not good at apologies, but Natalia surprises me when she reaches out and takes my hand in hers. When I look at her, her eyes are soft, and I wish they weren’t. I wish she could hate me like she should.

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