Chapter 1

Elena''s POV

My feet hurt so bad I could barely take another step. The pavement was cold against my bare soles, and every rock felt like a knife cutting through my skin. I couldn''t remember how long I''d been walking. Maybe hours. Maybe days.

Everything hurt.

My ribs ached with every breath I took. The cut above my left eye had stopped bleeding, but the dried blood made it hard to see properly. My arms were covered in bruises that had turned every color you could imagine - purple, yellow, green, black. Some were fresh from yesterday. Others were weeks old.

I had to keep moving though. He would come looking for me soon.

The thought made my stomach twist into knots. Viktor always found me when I tried to run before. Always. And every time he dragged me back, things got worse. So much worse.

But this time was different. This time I wasn''t going back. I couldn''t.

The street was quiet except for the sound of my own ragged breathing. Most of the houses had their lights off. Normal families were probably asleep in their warm beds, safe and sound. I tried not to think about what that must feel like.

A sharp pain shot through my side and I stumbled, catching myself against a lamppost. My vision was getting blurry. My head felt heavy and wrong. I knew I needed help, but asking for help meant explaining things. And explaining things meant talking about him.

I couldn''t talk about him. Not ever.

My legs gave out suddenly and I crashed to my knees on the sidewalk. The impact sent white-hot pain shooting through my already damaged ribs. I gasped and tasted blood in my mouth.

Get up, I told myself. You have to get up.

But my body wouldn''t listen anymore. I was so tired. So cold. The darkness at the edges of my vision was getting bigger, pulling me in.

Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how it ended.

I closed my eyes and let myself fall forward, expecting to hit the hard concrete. Instead, strong arms caught me before I could collapse completely.

"Jesus Christ," a voice said above me. A man''s voice, but not Viktor''s. This voice was younger. Warmer. "Mom! Dad! Come quick!"

I tried to open my eyes but everything was spinning. The arms holding me were gentle, nothing like the rough hands I was used to. I wanted to struggle, to run, but I had nothing left.

"What happened?" A woman''s voice now, filled with concern. "Oh my god, Samuel, look at her. Look what someone did to this poor child."

"Victoria, call 911 right now," another man said. Older than the first one. "Marcus, can you carry her inside? We need to get her warm."

Marcus. That was the name of the boy holding me.

"I''ve got her," Marcus said softly. His arms tightened around me, lifting me up like I weighed nothing at all. "You''re safe now. Nobody''s going to hurt you anymore."

I wanted to believe him. But I''d heard promises like that before.

The warmth hit me as soon as we went inside their house. Real warmth, not like the broken heater in Viktor''s basement. My whole body started shaking even harder as the cold began to leave my bones.

"Put her on the couch," the woman - Victoria - said. I could hear her moving around quickly, grabbing things. "Samuel, where are those blankets? Marcus, be careful with her arm. I think it might be broken."

They were talking about me like I mattered. Like I was a person instead of a thing.

Marcus set me down so gently on their couch. The cushions were soft and clean, nothing like the mattress on the floor I was used to. He stayed next to me, his hand hovering near my shoulder like he wanted to comfort me but wasn''t sure if he should touch.

"The ambulance is on its way," Victoria said, kneeling down beside the couch. She had a warm washcloth in her hands. "Sweetie, can you tell me your name?"

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I hadn''t spoken in four years. Couldn''t speak. Viktor had made sure of that.

"It''s okay," Marcus said quickly. "You don''t have to say anything right now. Just rest."

His voice was so kind. I looked at him for the first time, really looked at him. He was probably around my age, maybe seventeen like me. Dark hair that looked like he''d been running his hands through it. Worried brown eyes that kept scanning over my injuries like he was trying to figure out how to fix all of them.

Nobody had ever looked at me like that before. Like they cared whether I lived or died.

"The paramedics will be here in five minutes," Samuel said, hanging up the phone. He looked angry, but not at me. At whoever had done this to me. "Victoria, we need to make sure they don''t contact her parents. Not until we know what''s going on here."

Parents. If only they knew.

"Of course not," Victoria said firmly. "Look at these injuries, Samuel. No child gets hurt like this by accident. Someone did this to her on purpose."

My eyes started to fill with tears. Not from the pain, but from the way they were talking about protecting me. These strangers who didn''t even know my name were already doing more for me than anyone had in twelve years.

Marcus noticed me crying and his expression got even softer. "Hey, it''s going to be okay. I promise you''re safe here. We''re not going to let anyone hurt you again."

I wanted to tell him that people always found ways to hurt me. That safety wasn''t real, not for girls like me. But the words were locked away deep inside where I couldn''t reach them anymore.

The sound of sirens was getting closer. Soon they''d take me to a hospital and ask questions I couldn''t answer. They''d want to know where I came from and who had hurt me. They''d probably try to send me back.

My whole body started shaking again, but this time it wasn''t from the cold.

"Marcus," Victoria said quietly, "stay with her. Don''t let them take her anywhere without one of us."

Marcus nodded and moved closer to me on the couch. "I''m not going anywhere," he told me. "Whatever happens next, you don''t have to face it alone."

The sirens were right outside now. Bright lights flashed through the windows as the ambulance pulled up in front of the house.

For the first time in four years, I felt something that might have been hope.