And that was when I heard my name among the list of names the newscaster called.
Of course. The bastard kept reaching out to me until a few days ago.
Oh, God.
Seeing as the news was a rerun, it must have been Hanna’s reason for suddenly turning cold. I looked to the reception desk just in time to catch a few fingers pointed my way. The whispers and side glances wrapped around me, making the large hall feel too small for me to breathe.
But the authorities coming after me weren’t my fear at that moment. It was something bigger. An authority that didn’t report to any other. The Bratva.
Vitya was a Lobanov soldier, and if he was arrested for smuggling intel, it must have been Bratva information. I knewenough of how the Russian mafia worked to know that his being in government detention wouldn’t stop the Bratva from setting things right.
With my name publicly linked to his, their process of correcting his wrongs and making him pay for betraying them would definitely get to me.
I can’t afford to wait around to find out if they come for me.
I let out a shaky sigh as I headed for the changing room.
I had changed out of my uniform in a jiffy and was walking back into the reception, my head filled with thoughts of the best places to run to. What my colleagues thought of me didn’t have any space in my mind since I wouldn’t be coming back to the clinic.
As I walked out of the clinic building, I considered passing through the back gate instead of the front entrance.
I walked along the side of the building, taking my phone out of my purse to start Googling the cheapest places to move to.
I’ll pack just one bag and disappear. Just that green khaki backpack.
Maybe I should leave my phone behind so I can’t be tracked.
Then I—
Bright lights suddenly stunned me out of my thoughts.
That was when I saw them: black SUVs surrounding the building, men in black jackets stepped out onto the street.
God, please let them be security staff bringing their boss to the clinic.
Please don’t let them be here for me.
“Dobriy Vyecher, Alina.”
Oh, no.
I looked up to see the owner of the voice. He was a tall, bald, muscular man with a hard expression that the night couldn’t conceal.
“You’re leaving with us. Let’s keep it simple,” he explained.
I could see masked men approach from where they stood around the cars.
With all the courage I could muster, I turned around from the bald man and ran.
I hadn’t taken ten steps when a strong hand grabbed my left arm in an iron grip.
Okay, I’m finished.
“Resistance will make it worse for you,” the bald man rasped into my ear.
My eyes caught the insignia on his jacket. They were from Konstantin Lobanov’s personal team.
As I was shoved into one of the waiting vehicles, I caught a glimpse of a long-haired man looking back at me from the front SUV. I had seen him enough at Roman and Liza’s to know who he was.
