Chapter One #2
“I’m glad you know me more than I know myself,” I responded sarcastically to my assistant before facing Amanda and Ivan. “I get it. Her refusal isn’t the issue; it’s her attitude,” I remarked before going on. “Doesn’t mean I’ll say yes to an older guy, though.”
They all laughed, and I joined in.
“Seriously, though, I think I can still work with a 10-year gap. Maximum of 15. Hmm,” Amanda revealed, squinting her eyes.
“Are you serious? So, you can date Dr. Smirnov?” Ivan asked, surprise written on his features.
“Not Dr. Smirnov!” Amanda answered, her eyes dilating for a second. “He’s too…serious. And imagining myself with a married man makes me cringe. So, no, thank you.”
“I don’t think I can ever go beyond 5 or 6 years,” Hanna uttered.
“I fall right into that bracket, don’t I?” Ivan asked, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m 25. You’re 20, right?”
Hanna’s eyes were on anyone but Ivan, and it made me chuckle. She wasn’t the shy type, but Ivan seemed to be the only guy who could make her uneasy like this.
“You don’t ask a woman her age!” Amanda chastised playfully, thankfully saving Hanna from becoming tomato-faced. “She’s 20, anyway.”
“Right,” Ivan uttered, finally tearing his eyes away from my beloved assistant.
“What about you, Alina?” Amanda questioned.
“Maybe 4 years. No more,” I answered. I had once gone beyond that gap—and my heart still carried the scar from how badly it ended. I would rather remain single than delve into that situation ever again.
“Uh, that’s sooo not spicy,” Amanda complained. “Anyways, is it just me, or have Julia and friends started dropping their things in the break room for the sake of some territory-marking?”
“I saw Sofia’s bag there after my shift on Monday. You may be right,” Hanna answered.
“Well, if they’re marking it, whatever, how’s it a problem for anyone?” Ivan questioned.
“It’s not like they’re standing in our faces or anything,” I added, shrugging.
Even a blind person could see that there were different factions of young staff at the clinic—and Julia’s clique was one of the most dominant.
Hanna and I, together with Ivan and Amanda, were some of the few staff members who didn’t belong to any faction.
Whenever we were at work, our focus was on the job and the patient, not on whoever we were working with.
The four of us often came together simply on the grounds of common interests and the work department.
So, it wasn’t exactly pointless to say that Julia and her friends sometimes tried to ‘assert’ their dominance and remind everyone that they were an authority in the hospital. But the bottom line was that we had no reason to obsess over them.
“True, though,” Amanda conceded, emptying her cup.
A wave of anger shot through my body as I took out my phone to check the time, and caught sight of a text message.
‘You can’t run, let alone hide from me, dorogoya. Come on, give me a call. We’ll let bygones be bygones. Okay?’
**********
I stared at the picture of the beautiful little darling on my phone screen. Liza had sent the picture to me very early this morning (which would have been early at night on her end since she was in Manhattan), following our chat about how much I missed her baby.
Just to see Liza’s kid, I could have taken her offer to be flown to New York any time.
But it wasn’t that easy. In fact, it was more complicated than Liza knew.
I had no desire to remain in a Bratva setting or remain close to the Lobanov family for any moment longer.
Being there during Liza’s pregnancy was hard enough; it was the limit for me.
Although Liza and I had become good friends, I couldn’t stay.
I’d just stay here in Russia and keep doing the work I love at the clinic. The normalcy of my life here gave me a peace I would protect at all costs.
With a determined sigh, I locked the phone and put it in my purse. I zipped up the purse, slung its strap over my shoulder, and walked out of the house.
I was at the hospital to resume my night shift in less than forty minutes.
Walking briskly across the large reception and answering greetings with a smile, I went into the changing room.
Having changed into my blue scrubs and traded my sandals for my black protective footwear, I headed for the first ward.
I was walking out of the patient’s room, a pleased smile on my face, when I saw Hanna at the end of the hallway.
“Slowpoke,” I joked, expecting her regular, playful, not-so-remorseful reason for being late.
But Hanna simply blinked at me like she hadn’t met me before. I watched her eyes dart around the hallway before they landed on me again.
“Hi…,” she greeted, her tone cold.
“Hanna, what’s going on? Are you—”
“I have to go drop this,” she cut in, gesturing to the file in her hand.
Then she turned around and left.
What the hell was that?
Deciding to deal with whatever it was after checking on the remaining patients, I made my way down the hallway.
I had barely taken a step into the reception to retrieve the records of a patient when I heard it.
“...Vitya Morozov for smuggling intelligence to…”
My ears stung at the mention of his name, and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to understand what I was hearing from the reception TV.
Turning away from the desk I was headed towards, I stood still, eyes on the screen where a newscaster read the news.
The face on the top right corner of the screen, Vitya’s ever-arrogant face, stole all of my attention, and I struggled to listen to the news itself.
The Russian authorities have arrested him for smuggling intelligence.
Which, in itself, should be good news.
Just as I tried telling myself it might just be that simple, that it might not mean anything bad for me, the bombshell hit me.
Scans of his devices have revealed suspects with whom he might have been colluding or using to get more intel.
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 knew enough 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.
Konstantin Lobanov.
But, to me, he would always be the man who killed Siroc and scarred me for life.
With the slam of the door echoing the forceful closing of a chapter, the car I was in joined the procession away from the clinic. The city of St. Petersburg soon vanished behind tinted glass, as if it were an ordinary night.
Now what?