Page 73 of Bratva Bidder
Then Irina glances at the clock. “She went down to get medicine,” she murmurs, mostly to herself. “Said she’d be right back.”
“She got the medicine.”
Irina looks up, startled. “What?”
“She was at the counter when I saw her. I paid for the medicine. That was…” I check my watch. “Fifteen minutes ago.”
Irina stiffens. Her grip on Mila tightens. “She should’ve been back by now,” she says. Something’s wrong.”
I look toward the door.
The last time I saw Nadya, she’d been pale, off-balance, shaken.
My jaw tightens. “Stay with them,” I say, already striding toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Irina calls after me.
“To find her.”
She’s not in the hallway.
Not in the stairwell.
Not in the elevator.
Not in the goddamn lobby.
I sweep through every corridor of the hospital, checking each corner, every shadowed nook. People turn to stare as I pass.Some nurses ask if I’m lost, but I don’t stop. I don’t answer. I don’t care. There’s only one thing I need to find, and it’s her.
But she’s gone. And with every passing second, the pulse in my neck beats louder.
I step out of the hospital, and the moment the doors slide shut behind me, the sky splits open. Rain pours down in thick, unforgiving sheets. Soaking my suit in seconds.
I swing into the driver’s seat of the black SUV and slam the door shut, gripping the wheel.
Where the hell did you go, Nadya?
Is this about the fight? About what I said? About how I touched her like she was mine and then accused her of being someone else’s?
My hands curl tight around the steering wheel.
I did this. I pushed her too hard. Again.
She’s out there, alone in the rain, and the thought that she might’ve run just to get away from me makes something splinter inside my chest.
A knock on the window startles me. It’s Lev, soaked and squinting under the downpour. I roll it down halfway.
“You heading out?” he asks, peering in.
“Yeah,” I say. “I need to find her. Nadya. She’s not in the hospital.”
He frowns. “You sure?”
“I searched every goddamn floor.”
Lev leans closer, squinting through the rain. “You think she’s in trouble?”
“I don’t know what I think,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. “I think she needed space.”
