December 23rd: The Day After
Isla couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Alexei's weapon against Viktor's head. Saw Killian walking into danger. Saw the thousand ways yesterday could have ended in death.
At 4 a.m., she gave up. Went to the kitchen. Made coffee she didn't really want.
Found Killian already there. Staring at nothing. Cup of coffee going cold in front of him.
"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked.
"Keep replaying it. All the ways it could have gone wrong. All the moments where one different choice would have meant—" He stopped. "Would have meant losing you. Or Viktor. Or both."
"But we didn't. We survived. We—we handled it."
"We got lucky. That's different from handling it. Alexei could have shot Viktor the second we showed ourselves. Could have had backup we didn't detect. Could have—could have killed all three of us and escaped. We got lucky."
