A Drama

A Drama
Leomord’s POV

I sit on the back porch, sharpening the same knife for the third time, the rhythm steady, mechanical. The forest is quiet, but my mind isn’t. Birds call in the distance, the wind rustles the tall grass, but it’s not peace I feel. It’s the pressure before a storm.

Anastasia is inside, baking. I can hear the occasional clink of metal against ceramic, the quiet hum of a song she hasn’t sung in weeks. It's the first time in days she’s sounded normal. And I want to hold on to that sound like it’s the last string keeping me sane.

But I know this can’t last. Not when shadows from my past keep finding cracks to slip through.

I wipe the blade and place it back into the case. The scar above my ribs aches like it knows something I don’t. I reach inside my pocket and pull out the folded paper, another warning from the gang. No name, no signature. Just two words: She’s next.

My stomach clenches.

I burned the last one. Ripped it up and told myself it was an empty threat. But this one feels different. Heavier. Real.

I head inside and find Anastasia leaning over the oven. Her hair is messy, cheeks dusted with flour. When she turns around and smiles, I forget for a moment. Forget the danger, the blood, the fear. It’s just her, looking at me like I’m worth something.

“You hungry?” she asks.

I nod, but I don’t sit. “Can we talk?”

Her smile fades, and she wipes her hands on a towel. “Of course.”

We move to the table. She pours two glasses of water. I hate the way her hand trembles a little—like she already senses what I’m about to say.

“I don’t think it’s safe here anymore,” I begin. “I got another note.”

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t speak. Just waits.

“They’re still watching. They know where we are. They know about you.”

A silence falls between us, thick and heavy. Then, quietly, she asks, “What do we do now?”

I don’t answer immediately. I reach across the table and take her hand. “We leave. For real this time. No looking back. We take Maria, Grandma... everything we can carry.”

Her fingers tighten around mine. “Okay,” she whispers.

“Okay?”

She nods, fiercely now. “I’m not losing you. Not to them. Not again.”

The decision made everything feel clearer. The next day we start packing. I handle the logistics, routes, cash, fake IDs if we need them. Anastasia handles the emotional side, telling Maria, comforting Grandma, pretending we’re just going on a trip.

But none of us believe that.

That night, after everyone’s asleep, I step outside again. The moon is full, casting silver across the field. My phone vibrates. Unknown number.

I answer without speaking.

A voice I haven’t heard in over a year sneers, “Running again, Leomord? You really think you can protect her?”

I clench my jaw. “If you touch her, I swear__”

He laughs. Cold. Sharp. “You swore a lot of things before. Loyalty. Silence. You broke them all. There’s a price for that.”

Then the line goes dead.

I stare at the trees for a long time, rage pulsing under my skin.

When I return inside, Anastasia is waiting in the hallway. “Was it him?”

I nod.

She steps closer, her hand on my chest. “Then we don’t wait anymore.”

“I’ll keep you safe,” I whisper.

She kisses me hard, desperate, unyielding. And for a moment, I believe I can.

~

The morning arrives slowly, like it's unsure of itself. The sky is pale, hesitant, as if even the sun isn’t ready to face what’s coming. I sit on the porch, coffee turning cold in my hand, eyes locked on the gravel path leading away from the cabin. She’s still asleep inside. I couldn’t.

Something’s been clawing at me since last night.

She smiled at dinner. She laughed when Grandma forgot the salt again. She braided Maria’s hair. She looked at me like I was enough.

And I couldn’t say it.

Not the one thing I know she needs. The truth.

She deserves peace. Not another man full of shadows.

But peace doesn’t come without sacrifice. And sometimes, even love demands an edge sharper than guilt.

The birds sing low and cautious. My fingers tap against the chipped mug. I can feel it, something’s about to snap. We’ve been too still for too long. And when the world goes quiet like this, it’s only ever calm before the break.

I hear her footsteps before I see her. She walks barefoot, wrapped in a soft sweater, hair still a little messy from sleep.

“You’re up early,” she says, yawning.

I nod. “Didn’t sleep.”

She doesn’t ask why. Maybe she knows I wouldn’t answer. Maybe she’s tired of trying to pry the pieces open.

But she sits beside me, legs tucked under, hand brushing mine.

“You’ve been somewhere else lately,” she says, not accusing, not angry—just… sad.

And that? That cuts deeper than a blade.

“I’ve been trying to keep you safe,” I whisper.

“By keeping me in the dark?”

I flinch. “I thought it was the only way.”

Her hand tightens around mine. “It never is.”

A car drives by in the distance. The sound echoes longer than it should, like a warning. I squeeze her hand back, finally letting the silence crack.

“They’re still looking for me,” I say. “The ones from before.”

She nods slowly, not surprised. “Because no one leaves their world alive.”

“I tried. For you.”

“You still can. But not alone.”

I look at her then. Really look.

There’s fear in her eyes, sure. But there’s also fire. And that’s why I fell for her in the first place.

We spend the day packing, but not like fugitives.

Like survivors.

Maria helps quietly, folding clothes into boxes, tucking notebooks into a bag that’s far too small for a teenager’s dreams. Grandma hums an old lullaby in the kitchen while preparing food for the road. Anastasia moves like she’s steady, but I see the tremble in her fingers every time she brushes past a window.

The cabin has been home, even if briefly. But it’s no longer safe.

I pause in front of the mirror after finishing the last bag. The man staring back at me looks older than he should. Tired. But determined.

I walk back into the living room where Anastasia stands near the doorway, holding the small jade pendant I once gave her after we escaped the city.

“You remember when you gave this to me?” she asks.

I nod. “I told you it was a promise.”

“And you kept it.” She takes a breath. “So keep this one too. Wherever we go, whatever happens… no more lies. No more running alone.”

I reach for her hand, press a kiss to her fingers. “I won’t leave your side again. Even if the world burns down around us.”

Outside, the air is cool, the sky bruised with early twilight. We step out together, me, her, Maria, and Grandma. Not broken people. Not fugitives.

A family.

And I know it’s not over.