The Art of Becoming a Traitor by Andrea Bougiouklis

Author:Andrea Bougiouklis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Publisher: 5310 Publishing
Published: 2021-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

- The Found Diary of Eleri Roman, p. 72

⎯

Fyodor sat with his head down, Clover’s hand on his shoulder as she knelt in front of him. “We have to go.”

He knew this, but he couldn’t. He didn’t feel whole, here, without Eleri. He was surrounded by people, and he had a mission and a purpose, but he felt alone. He had to wait; surely, she’d come out eventually, that stupid smile on her face, laughing at him for thinking she could ever be slow enough to die. If he waited it out, even a little bit, everything would work itself out, and the lump would leave his throat.

He vaguely felt the ghost of Clover’s hand rub his shoulder once before disappearing.

She stood, turning to the group; anyone who was under Eleri Roman’s command will now be under mine, everyone else will remain under Fyodor’s.

He didn’t care. What was he supposed to do? She was everything to him, and she had been ripped away in the blink of an eye.

He never prayed, but he did then.

He should’ve been the one in the building. She was the leader. She was the glue that held them together. She was the one who knew what to do, who had that stupid killer instinct, who was able to get anyone out of anything. He should never have agreed to it. He should have talked her out of it. He knew that if she didn’t get out, he never would’ve either, but he was a much more disposable asset, and of the three - now two - of them who were leading this group, he was undoubtedly the weak link, in his mind.

This was his fault. Maybe not entirely, but at least a bit. He knew this was preventable, and he couldn’t handle knowing that he could’ve been the one to stop it.

I always do.

He pulled his head from his hands, standing, knowing El would’ve undoubtedly run her hands through his hair, which he still needed to cut, and smiled at him once before pulling him to his feet. She’d never let him wallow like this.

Stepping over to Clove, he was only a ghost of himself. She noticed, of course, but said nothing. To her, this was a situation that she had no right to interject herself into. Not only was she planning to kill these people only days ago, but now, she had essentially taken the place of the woman who he had been leaning on for years. She knew there was nothing she could do or say, especially considering how little she knew about him, to ease his pain. So she let him walk ahead of her, leading her to the second aspect of this mission, marching her through the streets of a region that had given him everything and now taken it, too.

He was bitter. Why had they chosen to do this, anyway? This was not their place nor their job. There was no reason for it. There would have been no consequences had they allowed what was happening to take place to continue.

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