The safehouse was silent except for the soft hum of the heater and the cold wind brushing against the old windowpanes. Yelena slept beside you, strong arms loosely draped across your waist, breathing steady and warm against your shoulder.

You should’ve felt safe. You usually did.

But tonight, the darkness felt… wrong.

It started as a faint sound — barely more than a whisper. A scratch. A shift. Something moving in the corner of the room.

You froze.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes fixed on the shadow standing near the wall. Tall. Still. Watching.

No. No, no, no.

You blinked hard, but it didn’t disappear.

Your heartbeat raced so violently it hurt.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing it to stop, willing the world to make sense again.

The floor creaked. You flinched so hard the bed shook.

Yelena stirred behind you.

“Detka…?” she murmured groggily, voice thick with sleep.

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t move. Fear had you locked up like ice.

She pushed herself up on one elbow. Her hand touched your shoulder — you jumped.

“Hey.” Her voice sharpened instantly. “You’re shaking.”

Her fingers brushed your cheek, and she felt the tears you didn’t even realize were there.

“Talk to me,” she whispered. “What’s happening?”

Your voice came out broken, barely a breath. “S-Someone’s in the room.”

Yelena’s whole body tensed — soldier mode for a split second — but when she followed your gaze to the corner and saw nothing, something softened in her posture. Understanding.

She exhaled slowly.

“Detka…” she murmured, sliding her arms around your trembling frame. “Come here. Look at me.”

You couldn’t. Your eyes were glued to the dark shape that wouldn’t go away.

“It’s real,” you whispered. “It’s right there. It— it won’t move but it’s watching—”

Yelena gently cupped your face with both hands, turning you toward her chest.

“Shhh,” she breathed against your hair. “You don’t have to look at it. Just me. Only me.”

Your body kept shaking, breaths fast and shallow. She pulled you onto her lap, straddling her, holding you tight enough to keep you from slipping back into the terror.

Her hands rubbed slow circles down your back, grounding you, anchoring you.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “You’re not alone. And nothing in this room can hurt you.”

Your heartbeat stuttered. “But it feels real—”

“I know,” she murmured, kissing the top of your head. “I know it feels real. But listen to my breathe, okay? Feel my arms. My heartbeat. I am real. Stay with me.”

You buried your face into her chest, sobbing quietly as the image in the corner wavered… flickered… faded like smoke.

“I’ve got you,” Yelena whispered, rocking you gently. “You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your breathing finally slowed as the last of the hallucination dissolved into darkness.

Yelena didn’t let go.

Even after you whispered, exhausted, “It’s gone…”

She kept you close, cheek pressed to your hair, voice soft and fierce:

“Good. Let it go. I’ll hold you through every night it tries to come back.”

Her thumbs brushed your tears away. You clung to her shirt, trembling but safe.

Tonight, you slept in her arms. And Yelena kept watch over the shadows for you.

Always.