Page 43 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
“I’ve texted Ilariy,” says Katya, grabbing her bag.
“Let’s go,” I hiss. “Act casual.”
We slowly rise and gather our things, but I notice the man at the counter motion to the two to the right. They all begin to move toward the exit, and that’s when we break out into a run, running toward the kitchen door.
I push open the swinging door, and a few employees look startled. Without wasting a breath, I beg, “Please, let us through.”
The employees, all women, must understand and one quickly shows us out. “Through here,” she says. “Should we call the cops?”
“No,” Katya says. “We’ll be okay. We’ve got our cars.”
We run out into the alley behind the café and turn onto a smaller street. In fear, I throw a look over my shoulder and feel horrified when I notice the men have found our path.
“Run,” I urge, grabbing the sisters’ hands. “Now.”
We sprint down the alley, and Tatiana nearly stumbles, but I catch her before she falls.
“There,” Katya points to a narrow passage between buildings. “It’s a shortcut to the main street. Our driver should be there.”
We take the passage, but just then, the footsteps behind us turn louder, closer.
“Oh my god,” Katya clutches at her stomach as we keep running. But just then, to our horror, we see a tall metal gate.
“Shit,” says Tatiana just as I look back.
“The men are almost at our heels,” I cry out in fear. “Listen, scale the wall and get help. I’ll try to stall them.”
“Wait, what? No way!” Katya protests.
“Just trust me, okay? It’s no good if all of us are caught. Please.” I push her toward the gate. “Just go. We can’t all climb it together.”
Katya protests again, but Tatiana and I exchange looks. I level a glare at her, a silent command, and she realizes I’m right.
“Okay, fine, we’ll get help,” she says, and drags Katya toward the gate.
I turn back, my heart hammering against my ribs, and look around for something resembling a weapon. I see half of a jagged-edged broken bottle and pick it up immediately.
The men approach, and I hold the bottle out. “Step back!” I scream as I inch my way to the back, slide along the wall. They circle me, following like vultures.
“Drop the bottle,” one of them hisses. From the corner of my eye, I see stones on the ground. I plant my feet in place and shake my head.
“No can do!”
“Bitch, drop the bottle,” another says.
Just as they try to walk closer, I quickly bend down and pick up a large rock, throwing it in their direction. They duck, and I begin to run the other way, toward the main street with the bottle still in my hand.
The alley stretches ahead, seeming endless. I hear them behind me, gaining ground. My lungs burn, but fear keeps me moving.
The main street is so far off, and they’re so close. I see a small alley to my right, and see that it diverts like a maze. I take it, hoping to get them off my heels.
I run and take the first left, then the right. I pass another turn and keep running into the darkness, my breath coming out in pants, and the men draw even closer.
Why can’t I see any light? I begin to panic, but I can’t stop. There’s no other turn, and the only thing I can do is run straight.
I run with everything I can in me. All my strength. My chest aches and my stomach cramps. But I run.
Just then, I reach a dead end.
