Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄╱ distractions
Svetlana awoke slowly the next morning — not to the usual slam of a door, but to sunlight filtering through the windows. For once, she didn't feel the cold seeping into her bones or the twisting pit of agony in her stomach. For once, it was peaceful.
The illusion shattered with the sound of a voice beside her.
"You're awake." The words were flat, devoid of warmth.
It wasn't the Soldier. Not that she had expected him to stay through the night.
Svetlana's breath hitched as she turned her head sharply, her body tensing on instinct. Standing at the edge of the room, arms crossed over his chest, was Dreykov.
The furrow in his brow was deep, his expression unreadable — but she knew better than to mistake his silence for patience.
"S-Sir," Svetlana stammered, quickly pushing herself upright in bed. "It's nice to see you."
Dreykov smirked, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached. Each footfall felt heavier than the last, pressing down on the air in the room.
"No need for pleasantries, Miss Pavlova," he drawled. "You should know by now — I'm not one for small talk."
Svetlana swallowed hard and nodded quickly. "Of course."
Dreykov dragged the chair closer to her bedside, settling into it with an air of casual authority. His sharp gaze, framed by thick lenses, raked over her, assessing, dissecting — searching for weaknesses invisible to the naked eye.
"You are one of the most promising girls in this program, Svetlana," he began smoothly. "You rarely disappoint me."
Svetlana nodded once more, unwilling to trust her own voice. She forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to look away. She was not a coward.
"I would hate to see you fall behind," Dreykov continued, his tone laced with mockery.
"I won't, sir. I promise," Svetlana finally spoke, her voice steady with conviction.
"I know," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "Your little accident yesterday made me doubt you — but I trust you'll prove yourself again."
"I will," Svetlana said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.
"Good," Dreykov murmured, nodding. "I would hate for you to end up like your sister..."
Svetlana's breath hitched. A sharp, involuntary reaction. Her blood rushed to the surface of her skin, burning hot. The memories flooded back in an instant, no matter how hard she had tried to bury them. To bury her.
