Episode 61

The air in the Petrova dacha still held the faint, lingering scent of pine and old wood, but it was now overlaid with a new, sharper aroma: the metallic tang of fear and the sterile scent of medical supplies. Anya, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket, sat by the crackling hearth, her eyes, once alight with the fire of performance, now held a profound weariness. The ordeal had left its mark, a shadow that even the warmest fire couldn't quite dispel. Dmitri sat beside her, his arm a steady presence around her shoulders, while Nickola paced the worn rug, his usual boisterous energy subdued, replaced by a watchful tension.

"It's over, Anya," Dmitri murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "They've been arrested. All of them. The whole rotten edifice."

Anya nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "But the whispers, Dmitri. They don't just stop. Even with them gone, the fear… it lingers."