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CHAPTER X. A Way Out
A few days had passed since the searing agony of the room where electricity had rewritten the very essence of her being. The changes in Elina were profound, undeniable. She was no longer tethered to the weaknesses of her human form-sleep, hunger, fatigue-they had all become distant, irrelevant needs. The frailty she had once known had dissolved into something altogether different, something more powerful. She felt invincible, her senses sharper, her body infused with a strength that had been utterly foreign to her before. She was no longer merely Elina; she was something new, something reborn.
Earlier, during training, she had felt the bones in her finger snap. It was a clean break, the kind that should have sent waves of agony up her arm, but instead, she watched with detached fascination as the bone began to mend itself. The fragments shifted, realigning with perfect precision, knitting together in a way that felt more natural than breathing. No pain, no hesitation. It was as though her body had simply willed itself whole again, disregarding the injury as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
They had pushed her relentlessly in training, testing the limits of what she had become. Every exercise, every challenge, was an opportunity for them to catalogue her abilities, to see what she could do. And she obliged them, putting on a show that was just convincing enough to satisfy their curiosity. She let them believe they were in control, that they knew the extent of her transformation. But she kept the truth buried deep within, a secret weapon that she would unleash when the time was right. They had no idea what she was truly capable of. They had no idea she was planning her escape.
But she needed an ally, someone who could help her navigate the treacherous path out of this hellhole. And the only person she could trust was Zoya. Days had passed since she last saw her, and the absence gnawed at her, a constant reminder that time was running out. Zoya was her best shot at getting out of here alive, and Elina was determined to find her. The alternative-the thought of leaving without Zoya, or worse, turning to Natasha-was a risk she wasn't willing to take.
Natasha. The name lingered in her mind, a ghostly echo that she couldn't quite shake. It was a dangerous thread to pull, one that could unravel everything. Natasha was a wild card, an unpredictable force that could either be her salvation or her doom. Elina pushed the thought aside, refocusing on the task at hand.
Finding Zoya was paramount. But she had to be careful. She couldn't afford to draw any suspicion, not when she was so close to freedom. Elina moved through the halls with a practiced ease, keeping her head low, her movements deliberate and unassuming. The shadows were her allies, and she slipped through them like smoke, invisible, unnoticed.
