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CHAPTER V. The Birth of Nemesis
As the helicopter descended back toward the Red Room, the weight of failure hung thick in the air, pressing down on Elina's chest like a vice. The cold steel beneath her hands did nothing to steady the tempest within her, and every rotation of the helicopter's blades seemed to echo the thudding of her heart. Her thoughts swirled with memories, accusations, and bitter, unshed tears that pooled behind her eyes, refusing to fall. Around her, the other women—Zoya, Milla, and Rhaena—sat in a defeated silence, their faces a mirror of the desolation Elina felt inside.
When the helicopter touched down on the stark concrete of the Red Room's airstrip, a shiver ran through Elina's spine, not from the cold, but from the knowledge of what awaited them. The door slid open with a mechanical hiss, and the women stepped out one by one, their boots striking the ground in a unified rhythm that belied the chaos in their minds. As Elina emerged last, she was met with the dark, looming figure of Svechnikov standing at the edge of the tarmac, his eyes sharp as daggers, cutting through the foggy morning mist.
His presence was suffocating, a shadow that swallowed the light before it could reach her. She could feel his gaze drilling into her as if he were peeling away her skin, layer by layer, to expose the raw nerves beneath. Zoya's hand brushed against Elina's as they approached, a brief, almost imperceptible touch of solidarity, but it was fleeting, lost in the tension that gripped them both.
"Svechnikov," Zoya began, her voice steady but tinged with a quiet desperation. "The mission—"
"Silence!" Svechnikov's voice cracked like a whip, stopping Zoya mid-sentence. He didn't even look at her, his eyes fixed on Elina with a cold fury that sent a tremor through her entire body. Zoya's words died in her throat as she took a step back, her courage evaporating under the intensity of his glare.
"Anhelina," he spat her name like it was poison on his tongue, his voice low and venomous. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Elina's mouth went dry, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Her mind raced, searching for something—anything—that could possibly justify what had happened, but all she found was the gnawing pit of guilt and fear that had been growing inside her since the moment they had failed.
Svechnikov took a step closer, his eyes narrowing into slits as he loomed over her. "You were in charge of that mission. You were the one who was supposed to lead them to success. And what did you do instead?" He paused, letting the question hang in the air like a noose. "You failed. You failed spectacularly. TWICE! And because of your previous incompetence, the Director is dead."
