Sofia replied calmly. "Neither do we."
They sat in silence.
Somewhere behind the wall, the hidden lamp blinked once more. Then stopped.
And the cabin fell into darkness.
The wind outside had become violent.
It slapped the windows, shook the doors, and screamed through the trees like a warning. But inside the cabin, the silence felt even louder.
Sofia stood with her arms folded near the window, her face pale in the soft light. Dmitry sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. Neither had spoken in minutes. The last thing they heard was Leo's voice disappearing into the walls. Since then, only their breathing filled the room.
Sofia finally turned.
"We are going to die, aren't we?"
Dmitry looked up slowly. His voice was low. "Yes. Maybe not today. But soon."
Sofia took a step forward. Her soft legs made no sound on the wooden floor. Her body was gentle, curved, and smooth like she had been carved carefully. But her eyes were not soft. They were sharp and firm and full of cold truth. They were the eyes of someone who had seen too much.
He looked at her. Every part of her. Her skin was the color of snow touched by firelight. Pale but warm. Her waist curved softly. Her hips were full. Her thighs thick. Her arms small and smooth. Her neck slender and graceful. But it was the way her lips stayed calm even when she was afraid that made him feel something sharp in his chest.
She sat in front of him.
He reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. Her skin was soft. Softer than anything he had ever known. Her jaw was small. Her lips warm. Her collarbones delicate and light beneath her skin. Her chest rose and fell quietly, her breath steady even though her heart was not.
She leaned her head into his palm.
"I am scared," she said.
He nodded. "So am I."
She placed her hand on his chest. She felt the scar over his heart. A small one. Thin. Almost invisible now. He flinched.
She looked at him. "How did you get this?"
"A knife. When I was fourteen. I lied to my father. He told me to take the punishment or leave."
"What did you lie about?"
He looked at her. "I told him I hated him."
Her eyes softened. "Did you?"
"Yes."
"And now?"
"I still do."
She nodded. Then whispered, "I thought I was going to die alone."
He touched her hand. "You still might."
She smiled faintly. "At least now, I will die angry."
He laughed once. A real one. Short. But real.
Then she asked, "Why did you come for me?"
He held her hand tighter. "Because I could not stay away."
"Even knowing it would bring all this?"
"Yes."
Sofia stood up.
She undressed slowly. Not with fear. Not with shame. But with the calm of someone done pretending. The calm of someone who knew there was no more time to waste.
He watched her.
Her breasts were full and soft. Her stomach flat and pale. Her hips wide. Her thighs smooth and strong. Her body looked like something fragile wrapped in something powerful. She moved like she had never been touched before, even though she had been touched by violence too many times.
She walked to him.
He stood.
He removed his shirt. His body was broad and full of scars. His shoulders strong. His chest firm. His skin was marked by knives and fire and cold. But his eyes were soft now. And his hands were steady.
She touched his chest. "You always look like you are fighting something inside."
"I am."
"And now?"
"I am just trying not to lose you."
She kissed him.
This kiss was not soft like before. It was not gentle. It was full of hunger. Of sadness. Of years of silence. Of pain that had no name. Their mouths met with force. Their hands grabbed and pulled. Her fingers sank into his back. His hands lifted her gently and pressed her against his body.
They kissed again. Then again. Their breaths became heavy. Their bodies pressed tight.
He carried her to the bed.
They did not speak.
He lay her down carefully, his hand moving along her waist, her thigh, her back. She moaned quietly into his mouth. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her stomach. She pulled him closer. Harder. Her body moved with his.
She whispered his name.
He whispered hers.
They made love with urgency. With strength. With every piece of their bodies. It was not careful. It was not calm. It was hot and hard and real. She cried out as he filled her. He gasped against her skin. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him deeper. He kissed her again and again and again.
They did not stop.
She scratched his back. He bit her neck. She cried into his mouth. He held her like he never wanted to let go.
When they reached the end, she shook in his arms.
He held her tighter.
Her voice trembled. "I don't want to die."
He kissed her shoulder. "Then we don't."
She looked at him. "You said we would."
"I lied."
"You said you don't lie."
"I do now."
She laughed. It broke something in the room. It filled the silence.
Then she said, "If we survive this, you owe me something."
"What?"
"Peace."
He looked at her. "I don't know what that is."
"Then learn."
He smiled softly. "Alright."
They lay together. Their bodies still warm. Their breaths still heavy.
She turned and lay her head on his chest.
His arms wrapped around her.
Then she whispered, "If Leo dies before us, I will cry."
"He will not die."
"You sound confident."
"He is too annoying to die."
She laughed again. "You know, he said if he ever gets shot, he wants to be buried with his laptop and three muffins."
Dmitry smiled. "Sounds like him."
She lifted her head. "He also said if I ever fall for you, he will leave me a voicemail that just says 'I told you so' on repeat."
Dmitry nodded. "Then we should delete our phones."
She kissed him again. Slowly this time.
Then she whispered, "We fight together now. No more running."
He touched her hair. "Together."