Chapter 148: A Pro, Apparently

Chapter 148: Chapter 148: A Pro, Apparently

Vanya crossed to a small drawer near the entrance and returned with a single key, pressing it into Persephone’s palm without ceremony.

"For the gate," she said. "Harold and I reinforced the stairwell and elevator access to this floor. This gets you through both if you’re ever locked out or need to leave in a hurry."

Persephone turned the key over in her fingers, something steadying settling in her chest at the simple, practical weight of it. "Thank you. Genuinely." She looked up. "I know I panicked yesterday, when I first woke up. I want you to know I understand what’s actually happening now. This isn’t a nightmare I’m going to wake up from. I get it."

Vanya studied her for a moment, something like approval flickering behind her composed expression. "Good. Panic is useful for exactly as long as it takes to process the threat. After that, it just gets in the way."

"I’ve had a little time to sit with it," Persephone said. "It helps, knowing my family’s on their way back to me."

Harold glanced over, curious. "How do you know that?"

Persephone just smiled, small and private, and didn’t answer.

Harold waited a beat, clearly expecting more, then shrugged when nothing else came, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth pushing. "Well. Good, I guess. That’s one less thing to worry about."

"One less thing," Persephone agreed, the smile lingering a moment longer before she let it settle back into something calmer.

Vanya didn’t press either, simply filing the moment away the way she filed most information — practical, unsentimental, ready to be used later if it became relevant, though something in her expression suggested she’d noticed the deflection even if she chose not to chase it.

"Do you know how to fight?" she asked instead, direct as always.

Persephone’s mouth curved into something almost smug. "I’m a pro, actually."

Vanya’s eyebrow lifted slightly, the closest she came to visible skepticism. "Show me."

They cleared the small living room in under a minute, Harold retreating to the kitchen doorway to watch, phone forgotten in his pocket for once as he leaned forward with obvious interest.

"Rules?" Persephone asked, rolling her shoulders, settling into a stance that was looser than Vanya expected — not sloppy, just unconcerned, the confidence of someone who’d done this enough times that it no longer required visible effort to prepare.

"No rules," Vanya said. "Just don’t actually try to kill me."

"No promises," Persephone said, and grinned.

She moved first, faster than Vanya had expected given how unsteady she’d still seemed only the day before — a quick, testing jab followed immediately by a low sweep aimed at Vanya’s balance. Vanya sidestepped both, catching Persephone’s wrist mid-recovery, but Persephone twisted with the momentum instead of fighting it, using the redirected force to spin into an elbow strike Vanya only barely angled away from in time.

"Interesting," Vanya said, genuinely surprised now.

"I told you." Persephone pressed the advantage, closing distance fast, a rapid combination of jab, cross, knee — technique clearly drilled by someone who understood tempo, forcing Vanya to give ground for the first time since the spar began.

Vanya caught the knee on her forearm, absorbed the impact, and used the brief opening to drive forward instead of back, closing the distance Persephone had been counting on keeping open. The two of them collided into a tight, fast exchange — elbows, short hooks, Persephone’s speed genuinely impressive at close range, quick enough that Vanya found herself actually working rather than simply testing.

Persephone slipped one strike, caught another glancingly off her shoulder, and used the impact to spin low, sweeping for Vanya’s legs with real intent this time.

Vanya jumped it, barely, and came down already pivoting into a strike aimed at Persephone’s exposed side.

Persephone twisted away at the last second, not quite fast enough — Vanya’s palm caught her ribs hard enough to knock the air from her lungs, and she staggered back a step, breathing hard, grinning despite the impact.

"Okay," she wheezed. "That one hurt."

"You’re better than I expected," Vanya admitted, not lowering her guard yet. "Most people your age haven’t trained like that."

"Told you. Learned from the best." Persephone reset her stance, still smiling through the strain. "Round two?"

"Not tonight," Vanya said, though something in her tone carried real respect now instead of simple assessment. "You’re still recovering. I’d rather not find out what happens if I push you past your limit before we even leave the building."

Persephone straightened, some of the fight draining out of her posture, replaced by genuine satisfaction instead. "Fair. Though for the record, I think I was winning that second exchange."

"You weren’t," Vanya said. "But you were close enough that I stopped assuming I already knew how this would go. That’s more than most people manage."

Harold let out a low whistle from the doorway. "Remind me never to get on either of your bad sides."

"Smart boy," Persephone said, winking at him, rubbing her ribs with a wince that didn’t quite erase the satisfaction still written across her face.

Vanya crossed back toward the counter, already recalibrating the evening’s plan now that she had a clearer picture of what Persephone could actually contribute. "You’re capable enough to come with us tonight, then. We’ll wait until the building’s quieter — most people settle in a few hours after dark, less movement to draw attention."

"What are we getting?" Persephone asked, still catching her breath.

"Whatever’s still available," Vanya said. "Food. Water. Medical supplies, if we’re lucky. The rain’s going to make the streets worse the longer we wait, so we move as soon as it’s safe enough to justify the risk."

Persephone nodded, some of the earlier fear from yesterday fully settled now into something steadier, more purposeful — the particular clarity that came from finally having a task in front of her instead of just an unanswerable question.

"Then let’s get ready," she said. "I’d rather be doing something than sitting here waiting."

Vanya’s mouth curved, faint and brief, something almost like approval. "Good. That’s the right instinct."

Outside, the rain continued its steady assault against the windows, and somewhere beneath it, three people began quietly preparing for whatever the night still had left to demand of them.