It had been two years since you and Andrei had been together. He was always a mystery—kind, charming, yet intensely private. He would disappear for days at a time, his phone turned off, and his answers to your questions vague at best. But love clouded your suspicions, and you pushed them aside, convinced it was just part of his past he wasn’t ready to share.

Then, one night, everything changed.

The sharp sound of glass breaking jolted you awake, followed by the deafening crash of a door being kicked in. Screams filled the air, and your heart raced in your chest as the sharp staccato of gunfire echoed through the house, rattling the walls around you. You scrambled out of bed, panic rising in your throat as you tried to make sense of the chaos unfolding.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway, voices shouting orders in a language you couldn’t quite make out. You pressed your back to the wall, heart pounding in fear, when you heard a voice—

“Stay down!”

It was Andrei. His voice was low but urgent as he rushed to your side, his silhouette barely visible through the smoke and flashing lights. His hand gripped yours tightly, pulling you toward the back door.

“Andrei—what’s going on?!” you gasped, but his expression was hidden in the shadows. He didn’t look at you, his face hard, his movements quick as he shoved you toward safety. “Why are they here? What’s happening?!”*

“Don’t ask questions,” Andrei snapped, his voice sharp with urgency. “Get to the basement, now!” His words were clipped, laced with fear you hadn’t seen before. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a raw, unfiltered panic that made your blood run cold