Dancing in Her Webs | Yelena Belova [1]

Chapter 8

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Irina watched the yellow street lamps through the window that lined the centre of the highway, ignoring Natasha's consistent gaze through the rear-view mirror. In truth, Irina had no interest in being petty and ignoring Natasha because of their argument in the bar/restaurant; her mind wandered to Killian once again.

She hadn't thought about Killian this much in over a year —28 months and some odd days, to be exact. She couldn't simply succumb to the tiredness that made her eye-lids heavy and sleep it off, too afraid to even close her eyes.

"You awake?"

Irina finally met Nat's gaze through the rear-view mirror, and nodded, answering quietly, "Yeah."

  "What's wrong?" This time, Natasha glanced over her shoulder, peering into the red backseat —of another stolen car— behind Yelena for a moment before she flickered her emerald gaze back to the road.

  Irina sobered up from her "in the clouds" attitude and body language, and plastered a more assuring expression, "Nothing."

  "You know," Yelena grabbed the collar of her vest, looking down at it as she informed, "this is the first piece of clothing I've ever bought for myself?"

  Nat sighed at Irina's lie, then glanced at Yelena, "That?"

  "Yeah. You don't like it?"

  Irina leaned forward, placing her arms atop each of the front seats, "I like it." Yelena briefly met her gaze.

  "Is that like a .  .  . an army surplus, or—"

  "Okay, it has a lot of pockets." Natasha chuckled, Irina joining in softly. "But I use them all the time, and I made some of my own modifications." Yelena scoffed, waving her adoptive sister off, "Whatever."

  "Oh yeah?" Natasha chuckled.

  "Shut up. The point is, I've never .  .  . I've never had control over my own life before, and now I do," Yelena said. "I want to do things."

  "Hmm .  .  ." Natasha waited a moment before she smiled, "I like your vest."

  Yelena sighed in relief, "I knew it. I knew you did. It's so cool, right?" Irina grinned at how excited Yelena had gotten.

  "It's cool. Yes, I like it," Natasha muttered quietly while Yelena continued to ramble about her vest.

  "And you can put so much stuff in there. You wouldn't even know," Yelena then sighed and relaxed back into the passenger seat. "I really don't know where the Red Room is, though. I'm sorry."

  "I know," Natasha said quietly. "But I think I know somebody who does."

  "Oh, yeah?" Yelena asked, and Nat nodded. Irina's certainly curious, even though Natasha's deadest on her returning to that camp trailer in the middle of Norway. "Who?"

  Natasha sighed, "We're gonna need a jet." And Irina smiled softly —Rick.

Irina flickered her gaze to Nat. She lifted her dark brow, leaning more on Yelena's seat to get a better view of Natasha, "Do I get to say hi before you send me away to Norway?"