Her eyes are glazed like when I first walked into the room. I’m worried we’ve lost whatever progress we made since I arrived.
But then she blinks and it’s like someone has turned on a light. Her face is more flushed and her expressions are more animated.
I’m so relieved I could cry. “It’s me. I’m trying to help you, okay? Grab what you need. We have to leave.”
“Because Timofey,” she says, brows pinched together. “He’s going to—”
“He’ll be back, and we need to be gone before then. Can you hurry?”
Noelle doesn’t respond, but she climbs out of the bed and places her feet on the floor. Like a newborn giraffe finding their legs, she takes a few tentative steps before she can move like normal. A pungent odor trails behind her. Cold sweat and panicked exhales.
“Grab what you need, okay?” I
