Yelena grabbed my hand, yanking me up from the ground with more force than necessary, her grip tight as if she were afraid I'd disappear if she let go. The villa behind us was a roaring inferno, the heat still licking at our backs, but my attention was stolen by the frantic figure sprinting toward us—Claire.
She didn't slow down. She didn't hesitate.
She crashed into me, her hands flying to my face, my shoulders, my chest, as if she needed to physically confirm I was still in one piece. "You're fine," she breathed, her voice raw with relief, her fingers trembling as they traced over my arms, my chest, searching for wounds. "You're really fine? Is nothing broken? No bullets? No—"
I caught her wrists gently, my smirk softening as I looked down at her. "I'm fine, Claire," I said, my voice low, reassuring. "Nothing happened to me. I promise."
Her relief lasted exactly one second.
