Page 44 of Captivated By the Bratva

This need to escape and hide was embedded in my bones. I couldn’t stop glancing over my shoulder. Flickers of panic would return and rise up, prompting me to run faster without thought to where I was.

The drizzle shifted back and forth into rain, and with the slick sidewalks, I slipped more than I should have.

If Maxim was after me…

He’d be so mad. I braced for his anger, even the hurt that might show on his face at the thought of having to chase me down.

But if Mr. Avilov’s goons were coming for me…

No.I couldn’t stomach the possibility of those men seeking me out. They’d be hard and ruthless with me. They’d treat me worse than Maxim had. That was a given.

Maxim would want to punish me, yes, but with him?—

I gasped, flinching at a shadow behind me. Over there, near the building, a tall man hurried in my direction.

He was only rushing toward a car pulled up to the curb, though. But my frantic mind was convinced he was coming after me.

Dammit. I’ve got to get a grip.

My heart didn’t slow. I was revved up, high on the adrenaline. I was rooted, frozen in the instinct to flee.

As I turned to face forward, flustered with that last, silly scare, I held my breath too late.

A car barreled toward me.

Rain fell steadily, blurring my vision as the impact came.

Pain spread through me. The sensation of flying through the air had bile rising up my throat.

In the distance, as though I were listening from underwater, the screeching squeal of tires braking on slick pavement reached my ears.

The dull but fast thunder of my pulse filled my head. As I landed hard on my back, my breath was punched out of me.

Agonizing aches overwhelmed me. Shocked that I’d been hit by a car, I lay there and felt my chest rising and falling. Steady, and too slow for my racing heart.

The continued patter of raindrops on my closed lids irked me, but I lost the willpower—the energy—to squint them shut any tighter.

Darkness filled me. Keeping my eyes closed was easier than fighting to open them and assess how badly I was wounded.

Warmth trickled down my forehead, and with a belated, sluggish awareness, I realized that I’d hit my head.

“Maxim,” I mumbled, feeling like my lips were swollen and unable to work.

His name was all I could whisper as the blank blackness of nothingness threatened to consume me.

His face was all I wanted to see in my mind’s eye.

I never had a chance to tell him goodbye. He would’ve fought me to stay and not run.

And now, on the brink of unconsciousness, I realized how final my departure from him might be.

I passed out, straining to stay awake to the short, sweet memories of him.

17

MAXIM

Nadia, where the hell did you go?

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