A View

A View
Anastasia’s POV

I sit by the window, staring at the raindrops racing each other down the glass. The sky is dark, swollen with storm clouds, like it knows something terrible is about to happen.

Leomord hasn’t spoken much since yesterday.

Maria helps Grandma pack in the next room. They’re whispering quietly, trying not to disturb the silence that’s wrapped around this house like a heavy coat. But I can still hear the tremble in Maria’s voice, the fear in Grandma’s sighs.

We’re leaving tomorrow.

Running, really.

From a past that refuses to die.

I rest my chin on my knees. My suitcase is half-packed. I keep adding things, then taking them out, as if any of it matters. The truth is, no amount of folded clothes or planned meals can prepare us for what’s coming.

There’s a knock on the door.

Leomord steps in, eyes scanning me quietly. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks over and sits beside me on the floor, like old times.

“I didn’t want this,” he says after a moment, his voice rough.

“I know.”

“I wanted to give you a quiet life. A real home.”

I lean my head against his shoulder. “You gave me love. That’s more than I ever thought I’d get.”

His hand finds mine and squeezes gently. But I can feel the tension in his body. He’s still thinking. Still planning. He hasn’t slept much since he found out they were watching us. That they knew about me.

“They won’t stop,” he says softly.

“I’m not leaving without you,” I whisper.

He turns to me, finally meeting my eyes. His green eyes look darker today. Haunted.

“I can’t promise I’ll be okay, Ana. Not with them after us.”

I press my hand to his cheek. “I don’t need you to promise. I just need you to keep holding on.”

His lips brush against my forehead, warm and steady. Like an anchor.

We stay like that for a long time, listening to the rain, trying to memorize the sound of home before it disappears.

Later that night, we all sit at the dinner table.

Maria forces a smile, pushing rice around her plate. Grandma hums as she pours curry into a bowl, her hands trembling slightly.

Leomord doesn’t eat much. His fingers tap against the table every few seconds, like he’s counting time.

I can feel it too.

The tension. The silence behind every word. The fear hiding behind every glance at the window.

After dinner, I find him on the porch, smoking.

“You don’t smoke,” I say gently, walking out with a blanket.

“Maybe I do now,” he mutters.

I drape the blanket over his shoulders and wrap my arms around his waist from behind. He sighs and leans back into me.

“I hate this,” he says. “I hate that I dragged you into it.”

“You didn’t drag me,” I reply. “I walked in. With both feet.”

His fingers touch mine. “I don’t know where we’ll go.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Ana, if something happens to me_”

“Don’t,” I cut him off, tightening my arms. “Don’t talk like that.”

He turns slowly to face me. His eyes are glassy. Tired. But when he leans in to kiss me, I taste everything—his fear, his love, his desperation. It’s slow and burning, like he’s saying goodbye without words.

I hold onto him tightly, not letting go.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

~

We leave just before sunrise.

The road is still dark, empty except for the occasional blur of trees and broken fences. Maria is curled up in the back seat with a blanket over her shoulders, her head resting on a small pillow. Grandma keeps whispering prayers under her breath beside her, clutching her old rosary like it’s the only thing keeping her together.

I sit in the passenger seat, watching Leomord’s hands grip the steering wheel.

He hasn’t spoken in the last thirty minutes.

His jaw is tense. His eyes scan every turn, every shadow on the road like he expects someone to jump out.

I keep my hand close to his on the gear. Every now and then, my pinky brushes against his, like a quiet reminder.

I’m here.
You’re not alone.

“We should reach the town before ten,” he finally says.

I nod. “And from there?”

“I know a guy who owes me a favor. He can help us disappear for a while.”

I bite my lip. “Disappear?”

“It’s safer,” he says. “We can’t use our real names. Not until I know for sure they’ve backed off.”

I turn to look at him. The shadows under his eyes, the tired slump of his shoulders—it all makes my chest ache.

“You shouldn’t have to live like this anymore,” I whisper. “You’ve already paid for your mistakes.”

His eyes flick to mine for a second. “The past doesn’t forget, Ana. Not for people like me.”

“But it doesn’t get to take your future,” I say. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

His hand finally leaves the gear. He squeezes mine, warm and firm. “You’re my future,” he says quietly.

And just like that, the fear doesn’t feel so big anymore.

We stop for breakfast at a roadside diner.

It’s small and quiet, the kind of place that smells like burnt toast and old coffee. Grandma insists on ordering for everyone, even though she barely touches her own plate. Maria tries to act normal, pointing at funny signs on the wall, but I can see the tightness in her smile.

Leomord barely eats again.

Afterward, he steps outside to make a call.

I follow a few minutes later and find him pacing near the payphone at the corner of the lot, his voice low and urgent.

“No. Just make sure the route’s clear,” he says. “I don’t want any surprises.”

I wait until he hangs up. He turns to me, surprised.

“Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s nothing.”

“Leomord.”

His eyes close briefly. “Just making sure the drop-off is clean.”

“Drop-off?”

He hesitates, then exhales. “There’s someone who can get us across the border. Fake IDs, new names. Everything. But we have to meet him in person.”

I stare at him. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“No,” he says. “But staying here is even worse.”

We drive another hour in silence. Then it happens.

A black SUV pulls up behind us.

Fast.

Too fast.

“Leomord?” I say, sitting up straighter.

He glances at the mirror. His entire body goes stiff.

“Hold on,” he mutters.

He slams the gas. The tires screech against the road, and suddenly we’re flying. The SUV stays behind us, matching our speed.

Maria screams.

Grandma clutches the seat.

“Leomord__”

“They found us,” he growls. “Shit.”