Svetlana had no idea how to respond to the hand offered to her. It was too reminiscent of the incident twelve years ago. Back when Anatoly had been human... Looking between the hand and then his face, the blond felt her breath catch in her throat. Honestly, she wanted to cry. Cry for what had nearly happened to her, cry because Anatoly had been hurt, cry because he was showing genuine concern for her and actually seemed to care again... Quickly wiping at her eyes to keep that from happening before she took the offered hand.
Feeling herself being assisted up, Svetlana whimpered in pain from her stomach wound, only to stumble into Anatoly. She went still as she felt herself pressed against her husband. She was scared and hurt and he was familiar and oddly comforting, despite everything that had happened in Bangkok. Everything before then. If he had been there when she was attacked in Moscow after his defection... she would have been in this same situation. Of course, defecting automatically meant he couldn't be there for her, but it didn't mean she hadn't wished he had been there...
She should move. She knew that. They needed to get out of the alley. They needed to get back to the complex so that Svetlana could tend to Anatoly's shoulder injury. Get the girls so they didn't worry... But she couldn't. She couldn't move from her position.