Corvin said nothing.
Only his jaw clenched,Ithan could see it even from that distance.
Gérard turned toward the door.
And said, slightly louder, calmly, like a man long accustomed to giving orders:
"You may enter."
The door opened.
At first Ithan saw only a silhouette,slender, fragile, almost brittle.
Then she stepped into the light.
Ithan's pupils contracted; for a moment he simply stopped breathing.
Chestnut hair,the same. Loose ponytail, a few strands escaped and fell across her neck, exactly the way she always did when she was tired.
The same glasses she used to wear.
"My God."
It was her.
Maria.
He sucked in a sharp breath; the air rasped into his lungs as though his body had forgotten how to breathe. The binoculars trembled in his hands.
He pressed them harder to his eyes.
"No, no, no."
"This is impossible."
The woman was pregnant.
Her belly was already noticeable,not two months, not three.
She had died a month ago, but why did Maria's pregnancy look so far along? He couldn't understand.
The same small gesture he had seen hundreds of times,when she was nervous before an important conversation, when she sat beside him on the couch in silence, when she simply thought about the future.
A future he had believed no longer existed.
Thoughts exploded in his head like jagged shards.
"Maria…"
"Alive?"
"How?"
"The child…"
"Whose…?"
"Is this really her?"
She walked slowly.
Ithan felt his heart freeze for an endless second of horror and hope.
Then it slammed.
Once. Twice. Three times. So hard it felt as though his ribcage would burst.
Gérard looked at her without emotion.
"Come closer," he said softly.
Almost tenderly.
She approached the desk. Stopped beside Corvin.
She didn't look at him; her gaze stayed fixed on the floor.
Corvin spoke quietly, professionally, like a doctor reporting on a patient's condition:
"She is stable. Indicators above expected levels."
Ithan clenched his teeth until his ears rang. Blood rushed to his face, then drained away.
He was shaking.
Gérard tilted his head, studying her from the side, slowly, like a collector examining a rare specimen.
"And consciousness?"
A pause.
She answered herself.
Her voice… a little quieter.
A little colder.
But it was her voice.
The same one he had heard every night,whispered in his ear, laughter in the darkness, the last "I love you" before she vanished.
"I'm fine."
Ithan closed his eyes for a second.
Tears burned behind his lids.
He bit his lip until it bled to keep from screaming.
"It's her…"
"It's Maria…"
Gérard stepped closer.
Circled her slowly.
His fingers hovered an inch from her shoulder,he didn't touch her, but she flinched slightly.
Ithan saw it and nearly growled.
"Pain? Memory lapses? Aggression?"
"No," she answered.
"Everything… is under control."
Corvin added quietly:
"Connection to the fragments,zero. Both her and the life inside her."
Gérard nodded with satisfaction, as though everything was proceeding according to plan.
Ithan no longer heard their words.
He could only look at her. At the line of her cheekbone he had kissed a thousand times. At the fingers that had once intertwined with his. At the way she stood slightly hunched, protecting her belly.
It was her.
Every cell in his body screamed:
"IT'S HER!"
And then she turned her head just a little. Not toward the window. Just to the side.
Light fell across her face.
Ithan saw her eyes.
And something was wrong.
He jerked the binoculars down.
He pressed a palm to his mouth to keep from screaming, howling, smashing the glass with his fist.
He was shaking. Tears streamed down his cheeks,hot, furious, helpless.
He wanted to run to her and drag her out of that place.
"If this is her…!"
"No,she died, I was there, I was there the day she…"
He raised the binoculars again. His hands shook so badly the image swam.
But he kept looking.
She stood beside the container.
And then… very slowly… she placed her palm on the metal.
Gérard and Corvin froze.
But nothing happened.
The capsules inside did not stir.
Gérard smiled.
"Perfect."
A heavy, almost tangible silence filled the study, as though the air had thickened into syrup, drowning every sound except the faint, deliberate tapping of Gérard's fingers on the edge of the desk.
It wasn't a nervous rhythm.
It was a metronomic, lazy, confident pulse,the rhythm of a creature that already knew the prey had nowhere to go.
Ithan wasn't breathing; he only mechanically forced air through his constricted throat, as though through a too-narrow tube.
Every inhale required a separate act of will.
Gérard wasn't looking at Maria or Corvin.
His gaze drifted sideways,toward the tall window where early twilight was already thickening.
Not directly.
Slightly off to the side, as though he knew something.
Too casual to be accidental.
And in that same instant Ithan felt a long, icy needle slide down his spine,not fear, but an ancient, animal signal:
"Does the glycine not work anymore?"
He instinctively dropped lower, almost pressing his chest to the cold windowsill. The binoculars trembled in his hands, but his eyes never left the eyepieces.
Inside, Gérard held one more long, excruciating pause.
Then the corner of his mouth twitched,a thinnest, coldest, almost inhuman smile.
He took a step forward. It was theater for the audience,to show the watcher exactly what was happening.
He circled Maria from the front, then from the side, then stood behind her,like a man walking around a statue to better admire every line.
Maria stood motionless.
Hands hanging at her sides, fingers lightly curled into fists, not tight, just enough for her nails to dig into her palms and remind her that the body still belonged to her.
Her torso leaned slightly forward, an ancient, unconscious gesture of protecting her belly.
To be continued…
End of Volume 2