0007

Elsa’s POV

I lasted four hours.

Four. That’s how long before everything started unraveling.

It was supposed to be routine. Simple deposition, clear facts, easy win. I’d prepared, I knew every page by heart. But then the supervisor started talking about March 15th, and just like that, my brain shut down.

March 15th.

Why did that date feel like a wound?

I stared at my notes until the letters blurred. I tried to breathe. Couldn’t.

Marjorie’s hand touched my arm, soft, steady.

“Maybe take a break?”

I nodded, grabbed my papers, escaped before anyone could see me fall apart.

In the bathroom, I locked the stall and pressed my forehead to the cold metal. Breathe, Elsa. Just breathe.

But every inhale brought her back, Miriam’s hollow eyes, her voice whispering, I know everything.

Three days. She’d given me three days.

And I was already wasting one, shaking in a bathroom stall.

My phone buzzed. I didn’t want to look, but I did.

Unknown Number: Have you figured out how to help me yet?

My stomach dropped. I should never have given her my number.

Me: I’m working on it. I need more time.

Unknown Number: Clock’s ticking, Luna.

Luna. The word made my skin crawl. I shoved the phone away, washed my face, and went back. Pretended I was fine.

The deposition was a train wreck. I forgot questions, mixed up names, lost track mid-sentence. Marjorie had to step in while I sat there like a ghost.

Back at the office, I stared at a blank document for almost an hour. Six words. That’s all I managed. Pursuant to Rule 56, Plaintiff moves...

Moves what? My mind was mush.

“Elsa?”

I jumped so hard my coffee spilled everywhere. Brown puddles across case files, dripping down the desk, staining everything. I tried to fix it, but my hands wouldn’t work. Paper tore, napkins shredded, and suddenly, I was crying.

Ugly, heaving sobs I couldn’t stop.

“Oh honey.” Marjorie’s voice, warm and steady. She shut the door, came around the desk, and pulled me into her arms. I didn’t even resist.

She smelled like lavender. Safe. Like a mother.

I cried until I couldn’t anymore.

When it was over, she sat me down, close, her voice soft. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

And for one second, moon goddess, for one second, I almost told her everything. About Riguel. The pack. The lies. The danger.

But humans don’t understand monsters.

“It’s money,” I said instead. My voice sounded small. “A friend needs help. I can’t afford to give it.”

Marjorie’s eyes softened. “The woman from yesterday?”

I nodded. “She’s desperate. Five thousand dollars desperate. And I…” my voice cracked…“I don’t have it.”

She was quiet for a while, thoughtful. Then: “Elsa, your heart’s too big. You want to save everyone. But sometimes people ask for things you can’t give without breaking yourself.”

“She was there for me once,” I said. “When I needed someone.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you owe her forever.” She squeezed my hand. “Don’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.”

I couldn’t answer.

She offered to lend me money, a small loan, she said, no interest. Kind, selfless Marjorie. I could barely meet her eyes.

After she left, I sat there surrounded by coffee stains and the smell of burnt nerves.

And I thought: She’s right.

But also, She doesn’t know who’s coming for me if I fail.

*******************

I picked the boys up early, and said I had a headache.

Luca looked up the second he saw me. “Mama why are you sad?”

Always so quick, that one. Too quick.

“I’m fine, baby.” I tried to smile. It didn’t reach my eyes.

Mateo barreled into me with a toy truck. “I builded a tower!”

“Built,” I corrected automatically. “Show me.”

But Noah, Noah just watched from the corner, holding his little stuffed wolf. So still. Too quiet.

He always knew.

At home, I tried to be normal. Dinner, stories, laughter forced between clenched teeth. But my brain kept counting, rent, daycare, food, lies.

Eight hundred and forty-seven dollars in savings.

Five thousand needed.

Hopeless math.

After bedtime, I opened my laptop. Sat at the table and stared at the numbers until they blurred.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Any progress? I’m scared, Elsa. The people I owe money to aren’t patient.

Guilt twisted inside me. I could still see her face, so thin, so tired.

But fear was louder.

Me: I’m trying. Please, I just need a little more time.

Unknown Number: Two days. That’s all. If you can’t help me, I’ll have to find another way.

My hands went cold. Another way. I knew what that meant.

I searched for emergency loans, quick cash, and to sell anything near me. Every option screamed “trap,” but I clicked anyway.

“Mama?”

I jumped. I almost dropped the laptop.

Luca stood in the doorway, blanket dragging behind him, hair sticking up. “Heard you crying.”

I hadn’t realized I was.

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Just tired.”

He climbed into my lap, pressed his little hand against my cheek. “You’re scared.”

I smiled through the ache in my throat. “You don’t have to worry, baby. Mama’s got this.”

He frowned, whispering, “Since that lady came, you’re sad all the time.”

So small. So perceptive. My brave little boy.

“I’m working on it,” I said, kissing his hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

But when I tucked him in beside his brothers, I didn’t believe it.

Back at the table, the house finally quiet, I stared at the laptop’s glow.

Another message blinked onto my screen.

Unknown Number: I know you’re trying. But Elsa, others are asking questions. If I found you, they can too. Help me, and I’ll make sure no one else does.

My whole body went still.

I read the words again and again until they burned behind my eyes.

If others could find me, if he could find me…

I pressed my hands to my face and whispered into the silence:

“There’s no way I’m letting Riguel near my children. I’ll die before I let that happen.”

And I meant every word. I will give Miriam the money and keep my pups safe from that monster.