“So?”
“You’ll never save enough from those street fights for even a one-way ticket, son. And it’s dangerous. Your mother’s losing sleep over you.”
Spartacus frowned, annoyed. Is he giving me a lecture now? He thought.
“So what are you suggesting?”
The man hesitated, choosing his words.
“There’s a very rich man,” he began. “He’s got a daughter. She made him angry, and he kicked her out.”
“You want me to find her and bring her back?” Spartacus guessed.
“No. The opposite.”
“Come again?”
“We need to teach the father a little lesson,” the man said quietly, leaning in.
“What do you mean, ‘a lesson’? Can you just speak plainly for once?”
“She’s here… in the village. He kicked her out, and she ended up… well, in the wrong place.”
“Where?”
“At Volodya’s barn.”
Spartacus stared at his stepfather in disbelief. He’d always thought the man was smart.
“You kidnapped a rich guy’s daughter?!”
“She came on her own.”
Spartacus chuckled dryly and shook his head. “Nope. Not my kind of job. Thanks. I’m out.” He turned to walk away, but his stepfather grabbed his arm.
“Wait. You don’t get it. You’re supposed to take her back and be the hero,” the man said, switching tactics.
Spartacus turned, brow furrowed. “Uncle Pasha… have you lost your damn mind?”
The man sighed deeply, chest rising and falling. He muttered as if to himself, “Fine. Either you do it, or we dump her in the woods and let her figure it out.”
That hit the nerve he was aiming for. Spartacus stood frozen. His gut rejected being part of something so wrong. But his heart wouldn’t let him abandon a possibly helpless girl.
Half an hour later, they arrived at an old house on the village’s edge. Volodya, Uncle Pasha’s nephew, was often away working in Moscow, so the house was usually empty—except when relatives needed to use it. This time, it served a darker purpose.
Spartacus was furious. The first thing he wanted to do was get the girl out. They crept to the barn and peeked through a gap in the wooden door. A dim light flickered inside, casting soft shadows. A girl sat near the wall, hugging her knees. Her black hair was tied in a loose bun, revealing a beautiful round face with large dark eyes and thick eyebrows. She looked no older than twenty-five. Spartacus stepped away from the door and walked quietly toward the gate. His stepfather followed.