Ella had slipped out of R1 while Daniel was typing at someone in the bedroom. She was tense and tired; the men had been coming to fix the doors for the past few days, and then others to lay flooring and add security. It had meant that strange men had been walking in and out of R1, and even though Ella had spent most of her time on the balcony, she'd still heard their voices. Everyone sounded like him to her, like the man who'd taken her, and she hadn't slept at all the nights previous.
Gone for a walk, the note she'd left for him on the counter read.
As she left R1, she slipped on the coat Daniel had borrowed from Vlad (it smelled like Daniel now, all musk and warm), and she'd closed the new door softly behind her. She had no idea what (who) to expect at the bottom of the stairs, but there were no vines behind her. She didn't fear Vaughn, not that way. When she reached the bottom landing, and she saw Rosalie there, she only hesitated a moment. Rosalie never wore black like that.
"Sissy," she said, and she stepped forward and hugged the other woman, clung a little too tight and a little too long.