Chapter Sixty-Two: The Question

Adrian asked me the question on a Thursday.

We were in his office. Felix had just left. The door was closed. The city hummed outside. I was standing by the bookshelf, scanning titles I'd never read, when he said my name.

"Elena."

I turned. He was sitting at his desk. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at his hands.

"What?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "What do you want?"

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean after this. After Volkov. After everything. What do you want?"

I walked to the chair across from his desk. I sat.

"I don't know," I said.

"Then figure it out."

"I'm trying."

He looked up. He looked at me. His eyes were dark. Unreadable.

"You've spent two lifetimes fighting," he said. "First against Julian. Then against Henry. Then against Volkov. You've had a target. A purpose. A reason to wake up every morning."

"And now?"

"And now there's nothing. No target. No purpose. No reason."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how.

"So I'm asking you," he said. "What do you want?"

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"I want to be happy," I said.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have."

He leaned back in his chair. He studied me.

"Happy," he repeated. "What does that look like?"

I considered the question. I thought about my mother. I thought about Daniel. I thought about Adrian. I thought about everything I'd lost and everything I'd found.

"I don't know," I said. "I've never been happy. Not really. Not in either life."

He didn't respond. He just waited.

"I was happy when I was a child. Before my mother died. Before Julian. Before everything. But that was a different person. A different life."

"And now?"

"Now I don't know who I am. I don't know what I want. I don't know what comes next."

He stood. He walked to the window. He didn't turn around.

"Then let me tell you what I want," he said.

I waited.

"I want you to stay," he said. "Not because of a contract. Not because of a plan. Not because of revenge. Because you want to."

I didn't respond.

"I want to wake up every morning and see you. I want to eat dinner with you. I want to argue about nothing. I want to sit in silence. I want to build something with you. Something that isn't about revenge. Something that's just ours."

He turned. He looked at me.

"I want you, Elena. Not the woman who walked into my office. Not the woman who died on that balcony. Not the woman who spent two lifetimes planning revenge. I want the woman sitting in front of me right now."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"I don't know who that is," I said.

"Then figure it out. And when you do, tell me."

He walked back to his desk. He sat down. He picked up his pen.

"I have work to do," he said. "You should rest."

I stood. I walked to the door. I paused.

"Adrian."

He looked up.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For asking."

He didn't respond. He just looked at me.

I left.

---

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I lay in bed. I stared at the ceiling. The cracks hadn't changed. The shadows hadn't moved. The clock ticked.

I got up. I walked to the living room.

Adrian was already there. He was sitting on the couch. He wasn't reading. He wasn't working. He was just sitting.

I sat beside him.

We didn't speak.

After a while, I said, "I've been thinking about what you said."

He looked at me. He didn't say anything.

"About what I want. About who I am."

"And?"

"I don't have an answer yet. But I'm trying."

He nodded. He didn't reach for me. He didn't take my hand. He just sat there.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said.

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"I know," I said.

We sat there. The city hummed. The clock ticked.

After a while, I leaned back. I closed my eyes.

"Tomorrow," I said.

"Tomorrow," he said.

Neither of us moved.

---

The next morning, I woke up on the couch.

The sun was streaming through the windows. The city was awake. The clock read seven in the morning.

Adrian was still beside me. He was asleep. His head was tilted back. His breathing was slow. Peaceful.

I watched him for a moment. I didn't move. I didn't want to wake him.

Then I stood. I walked to the kitchen. I made coffee. I brought it back to the living room.

He was awake when I returned. He was sitting up. He looked at the cup in my hand. Then at me.

"You made coffee," he said.

"I did."

He took the cup. He drank. He didn't say thank you. He didn't need to.

We sat there. The morning light filled the room. The city hummed outside.

"You should eat," he said.

"I'm not hungry."

"You're never hungry."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"Fine," I said.

I walked to the kitchen. I made toast. I brought it back. I ate it. He watched me. He didn't say anything.

---

That afternoon, I found Daniel in the living room.

He was sitting on the couch. He was reading. He looked up when I entered.

"You okay?" I asked.

He nodded. "I am. Actually."

I sat beside him.

"I've been thinking about what comes next," he said. "About what I want to do."

"And?"

"I want to work with you. With Adrian. With Felix. I want to help."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"You don't have to," I said.

"I know. I want to."

I considered this. I thought about everything he'd been through. Everything he'd survived.

"Okay," I said.

He almost smiled. Almost.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For letting me stay."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how.

We sat there. The city hummed outside. The clock ticked.

After a while, he said, "I'm glad you're my sister."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"I'm glad you're my brother," I said.

He nodded. He stood. He walked to his room.

I stayed on the couch. I didn't stare at the wall. I didn't think about the past.

I thought about the future. And for the first time, I wasn't afraid of it.

---

That evening, I found Adrian in his office.

He was on the phone. He hung up when he saw me.

"Anything?" I asked.

"No. Volkov is still in France. He hasn't moved."

"He will."

"I know."

I sat across from him. I folded my hands on his desk.

"We need to be ready," I said.

"We are."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"I've been thinking about what you said," I said. "About what I want. About who I am."

"And?"

"I still don't have an answer. But I know one thing."

He waited.

"I want to stay," I said. "Not because of a contract. Not because of a plan. Because I want to."

He didn't respond. He just looked at me.

"Good," he said.

I stood. I walked to the door. I paused.

"Adrian."

He looked up.

"Thank you. For asking."

He didn't respond. He just looked at me.

I left.