The safe-house was quiet, with only the soft rustle of fabric and the gentle hum of the generator breaking the stillness.
Ariella sat next to her mother, gripping Eleanor's fragile hands tightly.
Even hours after their dramatic escape, it still felt unreal.
Her mother was alive.
Leo stood close by, scanning the area, his sharp eyes darting between the shadows outside and the people inside.
Carter was quietly talking with Vincent Crowne, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken worries.
Ariella sensed it—the burden of what lay ahead.
They had escaped.
But they were not safe.
Not yet.
Eleanor spoke softly, her voice weak from years of being held captive. "You look just like her."
Ariella's heart tightened. "Like who?"
Eleanor offered a faint smile, her fingers brushing Ariella's cheek. "Like me. But stronger."
Ariella fought back tears, emotion swelling in her chest. "I thought you were gone. I thought I would never experience the soothing touch of a mother ever again"
