Gotham

The leak

"Who was Aleksey?"
The question drifted through the narrow, labyrinthine corridors of my mind, elusive as smoke. Was he the protector–my protector–or the very architect of the chaos that now spiraled unchecked through my life? The truth seemed always just out of reach, taunting me like some spectral thing in the distance. I couldn't decide if it was my own blindness or his careful manipulation that kept the answers veiled.

The car hummed beneath us, the engine's low murmur the only sound as we sliced through the city's winding arteries. Streetlights flickered, then vanished one by one, giving way to a different kind of darkness, deeper, quieter. The once-familiar cityscape became a shadow, blurring as though time itself was slowing. The silence between us thickened, a palpable presence, nearly suffocating, punctuated only by the soft rhythm of tires caressing the damp road. My eyes pressed against the cold glass, desperate for some anchor in the scenery, but even that felt surreal, an echo of a place I no longer knew.

Aleksey's voice, when it finally came, was low, measured. "You'll be safe where we're going," he said, his words drifting through the tense air like smoke curling from an extinguished flame. "It's only temporary. But it's safe."

Safe. The word felt hollow, a fragile shell that couldn't possibly contain the torrent of dangers rushing in around us. I didn't respond. The tangled web of uncertainty and fear wound tighter, a knot I couldn't untangle, didn't even know where to begin.

Jason's eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror, soft with unspoken pity. "Rose, it's a lot, I know. But Eagle's right. We're doing everything to keep you safe."

Safe. Again, that word. How laughably small it seemed now, a thin veil over the night's chaos. I nodded anyway, though my mind remained far from still. Exhaustion gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, pulling me under.

The car swerved off the main road, gliding onto a narrow lane that twisted through dense trees. We pulled to a stop before a house, modest and nearly invisible in the thick black of night. It was far, far from the city, as if we had passed into another world entirely–a world devoid of sound, of life.

"We're here," Aleksey said, the engine's sudden silence deafening. He turned, his gaze meeting mine, shadowed by something I couldn't read. Was it concern? Guilt?

Jason was already outside, opening my door before I could make sense of it. "Come on, let's get inside," he urged, his voice pulling me from the fog of my thoughts.

The night air hit me like a sharp slap. Cold, crisp, bracing. A small mercy in a world that felt otherwise suffocating. I stepped out, the ground beneath me suddenly feeling more real than it had in hours.

Inside, the house was stark in its simplicity. Sparse furniture, nothing to suggest this was anything more than a hideout, a temporary refuge. Aleksey gestured toward a worn sofa in the living room, his words echoing once again, as though for both of us: "We'll be safe here. For the night."

Jason disappeared into a back room, leaving us alone. The silence between Aleksey and me was heavy, crackling with the weight of things unsaid.

Finally, Aleksey broke it. "I don't expect you to trust me, Rose," he said, his voice tight, deliberate. "Not yet. But you need to know–verything I've done, it's been to protect you."

The words struck something in me, a nerve that had been frayed for too long. I stared at him, the man who had thrust me into this world of shadows and lies. My voice was sharper than I meant it to be. "Protect me from what? From people like Sergei? Or from yourself?"

His jaw clenched, and in that moment, I saw it–pain, old and raw, a shadow that lived behind his eyes. "From all of it," he said quietly, a confession more than a defense. "I never meant for you to be part of this. But now that you are... I have to make sure you survive it."