What am I doing just standing here? He walked outside and slid into the driver’s seat. He had to do something. Anything. Sell the car? Go after her? Hide out in the woods with her? File a report against her father?
“God… what am I thinking?” he muttered, rubbing his face.
He gripped the wheel tighter and pulled onto the road. The deeper the silence got, the more it ate away at him. She’d been ripped from his hands. And he had just stood there. No. Never. He wasn’t going to that divorce office. Not tomorrow. Not ever. He was going to Moscow. Now.
He called his stepfather and asked him to tell his mother not to worry. Something urgent came up. By early morning, he was near Voronezh. Exhaustion clouded his brain. He couldn’t remember why he was even driving anymore. What’s the point? They won’t even let me near her. They’ll have me arrested. Framed. Destroyed. But he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t live like he used to. Not now. Not after her. Maybe… maybe he could reason with her father again. Surely the man was human, wasn’t he?
Suddenly – headlights caught a dark figure stepping onto the road. He swerved. The world spun. The car hit a tree with bone-rattling force. Metal screamed. Then darkness. Voices. Hands. Sirens. Someone screaming—a woman’s voice, full of panic and pain. Flashes of red and blue lights. Blurred faces. Ringing in his ears. His whole body ached. And then… one word in his mind. Clear. Loud.
“Nadya…”
He finally came to. His head and chest were wrapped in bandages. Spartacus looked around. The room he was in was surprisingly neat and well-equipped, unlike any typical hospital ward. Feeling a remote next to him, he picked it up and pressed a button. Two seconds later, a smiling nurse walked in and greeted him:
«Hello, Spartacus. How are you feeling?»
«Hello,» he croaked. «Okay, I guess. Tell me—where am I?»
«You're in a private clinic. There was an accident, and you were brought here.»
«Mmm…» he groaned and tilted his head back, eyes shut. The memories started returning—those final moments before losing consciousness… and everything before that. Nadya…
«How long have I been here?» he asked.
«Two days,» she replied.
«Damn it!»
«Don't worry. You didn’t sustain any major injuries. You have a mild concussion and a bruised collarbone.»