40. Chapter 40

forty

Clara

S tephan's not answering his phone.

Goddamn it, Stephan.

I toss the useless device onto the creaky wooden table, biting back another curse. The guy’s supposed to be worried, but he’s nowhere to be found. Not exactly comforting when you’re on the run with a 4-year-old who’s already had a lifetime’s worth of danger thrown at him.

I stare at the screen, Mitch’s number pulled up next. My fingers hover over the keypad.

I should call him. Or at least send a text.

But as I start typing, Elijah tugs on my leg, his small hand gripping tight, pulling me back to reality. I glance down at his wide, tired eyes and the way he clutches Pikachu like the world is ending.

“Mommy, Pikachu’s tired,” Elijah mutters, holding the stuffed toy to his chest, his voice low. There’s fear in his eyes, and it’s enough to make my heart squeeze.

I exhale, letting the phone drop onto the table. Mitch can wait. Right now, Elijah can’t.

I squat down and kiss his forehead.

“Hey, how about we help Pikachu feel better by making this place a little more homey, huh? He’s a fighter, and fighters need a comfy place to rest.” I wink at him, and for a moment, I catch a flicker of a smile.

“Okay, Mommy,” he whispers, clutching Pikachu tighter.

“Let’s see…” I crouch down, brushing Elijah’s curls away from his face as I force a smile. “Where should we start? The kitchen, maybe? We need to clean this place up a bit, right? Can’t have Pikachu fighting bad guys in a messy house.” I ruffle his hair, trying to keep my voice light.

He looks up at me with a small nod, but he’s still nervous. I can see it in his eyes.

I stand up, looking around the cabin. Dust on everything. The air feels thick, like it hasn’t been touched in years. It used to feel different. It used to feel… alive.

“This place,” I begin, pulling a rag from my bag, “it belonged to my mom. Jake and I used to come here to play.”

Elijah tilts his head, “Jake your brother, Mommy, who went to heaven?”

“Yes, baby.” I continue cleaning, wiping down the countertops. “Jake always said the walls had secrets. He kept… well, he kept stuff here.” I glance toward the old wooden floorboards near the fireplace.

Stuff we don’t talk about.

I shake the thought away and turn back to Elijah, who’s looking at me like he’s waiting for more.

“Now, I’m sure Jake would be thrilled to know we’re here to help him out with this mess.”

Elijah nods his head and responds, “Yeah, Jake would say, ‘Good job, keep going!’” He grins.

I lean down, forcing a smile again. “So, let’s make Jake proud. Let’s clean this place up with Pikachu. Can’t have him sleeping in a dusty old cabin, right?”

Elijah grins and takes the rag I hand him. He starts wiping down the table.

“Good job, baby!”

I move to the stove, scrubbing the grime that’s probably been there for decades.

“You know,” I say, glancing over at Elijah, “Pikachu wasn’t always the strongest Pokémon. Oh, no. He had to train, just like you.”

Elijah looks up from his cleaning. “Really?”

“Yep. He had to work hard. And he didn’t do it alone. He had his friends with him. They helped him when things got tough.”

Elijah’s eyes brighten a little, and he starts wiping down the table with more energy, his cheeks flushing with a bit of life.

“Mommy, this place isn’t that bad,” he says, his voice perking up. “Look, there’s a secret spot for Pikachu to hide!” He points to an old, small cubbyhole built into the wall by the fireplace.

Jake’s spot.

“Perfect,” I say, laughing. “Pikachu can use that to hide from Team Rocket.”

We work in silence for a bit longer, wiping down the counters, clearing out the dust as best we can. Elijah chatters away about Pikachu and bad guys, his fear slowly slipping away.

At least for now.

Once the kitchen is somewhat clean, I twist the faucet. Water sputters for a second before a steady stream flows out.

“Thank God,” I mutter under my breath. At least something’s working in this place.

I pull out a can of beans and the apples I grabbed earlier. “Okay, kiddo, we’ve got beans and apples.”

I hold the apple out, giving Elijah a smile. His eyes scan it with curiosity, but instead of grabbing it right away, he looks up at me and says, “Okay, let’s wash our hands first.”

I can’t help the small chuckle that escapes me.

Leave it to him to remember the little things, even now.

“Good idea, baby,” I say, setting the apple down for a second and taking his hand. I help him up from the floor, leading him over to the sink. The water runs clear—thank God—so I wash my hands first, then help Elijah get his hands under the stream. He mimics me, his small fingers rubbing against each other like he’s focused on doing it just right.

I grab a towel, drying his hands gently as he stands on his tiptoes, looking up at me with those big, innocent eyes that always manage to punch a hole through whatever tough shell I’m trying to keep up. I’m halfway through drying his hands when he stops and looks at me, his face serious.

“Mommy… why are we here?”

The question stops me cold.

Fuck. I can feel my heart slam into my chest.

What do I say? The truth? That we’re running from the enemy? And the worst part? The enemy is his fucking father.

I can’t tell him that.

Well, I don’t even know what Leonid would do if he found us.

What if he finds out Elijah’s his son?

My hands pause for a moment before I force myself to keep moving, wiping the towel over his tiny fingers like everything’s perfectly normal.

“We’re just on a little adventure, baby. Just like the ones I told you about. Remember how I said Pikachu has to be brave sometimes, even when things get scary?”

He nods slowly.

“Well, we’re being brave, too. Just for a little while, okay? We’re gonna be just fine.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he presses his face into Pikachu’s fur. My throat tightens.

I’ve gotta protect him. No matter what.

“Alright, let’s eat up.”

I grab the apple from the counter, cutting it into slices while Elijah climbs back onto the chair.

“Here you go,” I say, placing a plate in front of him.

He nods, picking up a slice and munching on it slowly. His mood has lightened a little, but I can still see the worry lingering in his eyes. It’s been there ever since we had to leave home in such a rush. He’s smart, smarter than any 4-year-old should have to be, and he knows something’s wrong, even if he can’t put it into words yet.

He’s trying to distract himself by talking to Pikachu, giving the stuffed toy little pep talks like, “Don’t worry, Pikachu, we’re safe here. Mommy says so.” It breaks my heart, hearing him reassure his toy because he doesn’t know how to reassure himself.

I flick on the lantern as the last bit of light fades outside, the shadows creeping up the walls like unwanted guests. Elijah curls up on the old couch we’d managed to clean earlier, still clutching Pikachu like it’s his lifeline. The couch was covered in dust, cobwebs clinging to its legs like it hadn’t seen life in years. After pulling off the ragged old cover, I’d found a thick woolen blanket from a closet in the back, one that miraculously wasn’t too moth-eaten, and laid it down for him.

Clean enough.

I lean in, brushing his curls out of his face, kissing his forehead.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, patting his back lightly. He sighs, his body finally relaxing, the tension easing from his small frame.

I hum softly, something to keep him calm. And, after a few more moments, he’s out. I stay there for a beat, watching him. He looks so damn peaceful like this, so far removed from everything we’re caught up in. I wish I could give him that peace all the time.

Slowly, I stand, careful not to wake him. My legs are stiff, body aching, but I move toward the window, eyes scanning the treeline outside. It’s quiet.

No movement. No sign of anyone. That’s good.

I reach for my phone, pulling it out and staring at the empty screen. Still no word from Stephan.

Fucking typical.

I bite my lip, hesitating before typing out a quick, vague message to Mitch.

Hey, Mitch… it’s me. I’m in trouble. Elijah and I are at the lake house. Could use your help.

I hit send and regret it the second I toss the phone onto the table.

Mitch has no idea what kind of shit I’m in.

But I need someone. I can’t do this alone.

He’s going to flip when he knows I volunteered for the mission to poison Leonid Kuznetsov.

I stare at the phone for a moment longer, but there’s nothing else to say, nothing else to do but wait.

I glance back at the couch, at Elijah’s small form curled up, breathing softly in his sleep. The soft rise and fall of his chest is the only thing grounding me right now.

I settle down beside him, pulling the thick blanket up over his shoulders and wrapping an arm around him, tucking him close to me.

I need to stay awake, but sleep tugs at me hard. My body’s heavy, the exhaustion from running, hiding, and the constant fear hitting me all at once.

Just for a second, I tell myself. Close my eyes for just a second. But even in that brief second, I know it’s a mistake.