The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

Nadezhda's Escape

Nadezhda didn't know what to do.

She didn't know how long she'd been in that basement, just waiting for Nadya or Nikola to come back to the apartment, let her know what was going on, but they never did. Night fell outside the tiny windows, and still, she didn't hear anything from anybody. All was quiet around that building. Much too quiet.

Every minute that passed made her more and more terrified. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong!

At that time of night, she found herself pacing the apartment as she brewed herself a little herbal tea to help her relax. Her mind raced as it ran through every possible scenario. And that wasn't helping her at all. She felt sick to her stomach. Absolutely sick. She could feel her stomach growling inside her, but she couldn't bring herself to eat. She could literally feel herself shaking.

When was the last time she felt like this? It was... it had to have been during the revolution, back when she was young... ish.

Of course, back then, she also had Vladimir by her side, every step of the way. Every time she was scared, she had him there, his head held high, every confidence in the world...

Nadezhda sighed and put her head in her hands as she could feel tears brewing in her eyes. She hated this; she hated every damned second of this. All she really wanted was to have Vladimir back to tell her what the hell she was supposed to do. Before she got anybody else killed over her...

She head cars pull up outside the apartment.

Her heart just about stopped. Nobody had cars. Nobody, that was, except for the military.

Nadezhda reacted immediately. She dove underneath the table, the fraying tablecloth sheltering her-

Just as the army busted down the door.

She flinched, smacking her hand against her mouth before she could yelp. Her heart was pounding so hard against her chest, she was afraid that they would be able to hear it.

"Okhrana!" someone barked. "Come out with your hands up!"

Nadezhda stayed right where she was. She focused on breathing as slowly and as quietly as she possibly could. And on trying to find a plan on getting the hell out of there!

She slowly got down on her stomach, peeking out from under the tablecloth. All she saw were boots. Mud caked boots. She could hear the floor creaking as they searched the apartment, looking for any sign of her.

"I'm not seeing anybody," one of them said. "I'm thinking that that kid was lying to us: I'd be willing to bet a hell of a lot of money that Krupskaya is really off sipping vodka in some communist bunker in Moscow or something."

Nadezhda closed her eyes and silently cursed. She had a terrible feeling about who they were talking about who that kid they were talking about was. She didn't know how she knew it, but she knew it was Nikola. They'd caught him, and it seemed that they'd been able to beat some information out of him.

Poor kid. She hoped that he knew that it wasn't his fault. She knew as well as anybody else what the Okhrana was capable of. Especially with a Romanov at the head...

She couldn't let herself think about that, as much of a monster as that made her feel like. She had to get out of there: she'd think of a way to help Nikola once she was in the clear.

Well, if she ever managed to get in the clear.

Nadezhda crawled over to the side of the table closest to the door and peeked out from under the tablecloth, again. She couldn't actually see anybody out by the car.