Page 189 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“There’s a car waiting for you just outside the gates,” Yulia tells me. “Keep to the far left of the road, near the trees. The cameras won’t pick you up there. I’ve made sure to angle them just right.”

“A car?”

“There’s a driver waiting for you. Ask him to take you to the city. Then you can contact your family.”

“Who does he work for?” I ask. “What if he reports back to Aleks?”

“He won’t,” she says confidently. “He works for me. Now, go! There’s a new shift starting in four minutes and those men will pass right through here.”

I grab her elbow before she can turn away. “What if he finds out you helped me?”

“I can handle myself.”

“Yulia!”

She takes up both of my hands and pulls me toward her in a motherly embrace. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner,” she whispers in my ear. “Better late than never, though, right?”

I give her a sad smile as tears stud my eyes. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Then don’t thank me. Just run.”

I nod quickly and give her one last parting smile. Then I turn and sprint towards the gates.

I keep to the far left just like she instructed me to, through the woods and a gap in the gates. And the car’s waiting for me, just like she said it would be. I get in the back seat.

“Where to?” he asks curtly.

“The city. Downtown.”

He’s got a bad combover and the car reeks of cigarettes. He reminds me of all the cabbies in New York City, which makes me feel more comfortable. Like all this might truly be happening.

I’m going home.

* * *

A half-hour passes in silence. It gives me too much time to think.

What will Aleks do when he finds me gone?

What will he do to Yulia if he finds out she helped me?

Will he come after me? And if he does, why, when, how?

“Where exactly do you want me to drop you off?” the driver asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I look up and realize we’re in the business district. Hip shops and restaurants with lofts and apartments above. People mill around on the sidewalk, enjoying their normal lives. It’s a bizarre sight. Don’t they know what’s happening just out of sight? Don’t they know what I’ve been through?

“Right here,” I tell him. “Thank you.”

I’m about to get out of the car when he hands me an envelope.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Not my place to know or care. Madam Yulia told me to give it to you.”

I open the envelope and see a flash of green. Not only has she rescued me, she’s also left me money. Honestly, I don’t know why I ever doubted the woman.

She’s a freaking saint.

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