𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭

𝐟 𝐨 𝐮 𝐫

The realisation just hit me that it was an hours' walk to the docks. I had only ten rubles with me, which I had found below the coffee table in Detective Barnes' office. I looked around me; it must have been in the late morning already, as the streets were pretty empty with everyone off to work and school.

I wondered when I would get the chance to have a normal life again, going back to school. My life had turned upside down ever since Nikita passed away. After the previous night's incident, I didn't think I would be having a normal life anytime soon.

I felt my stomach grumble and thought that I should head back to Zari's and my one-room apartment to stock up on food first before heading on the hour-long journey.

Shit!

I then realised that our apartment and the docks were in opposite directions. It would take me about twenty minutes to walk back to the apartment, and I didn't have time to do that, as getting to that diner was my top priority.

I had been to the docks with Zari once a few months back, and somehow I still remembered the route to go there. I turned left and kept walking straight ahead for about fifteen minutes or so, I felt like I was going to faint any moment under the freezing weather due to lack of nutrients in my body. Just when I looked back up onto the road―my eyes were barely open from the blazing hot sun and the wind blew my auburn hair onto my face―I bumped into a man and he dropped his coffee cup onto the ground.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I said frantically, not wanting to get into a quarrel with anyone, especially in the state that I was in.

"That's quite alright, miss," he said calmly and picked up the coffee cup from the ground.

That was when I realised there was no coffee spilt on the ground. Because the cup was empty, thank god. Still, that accent. It was not a Russian accent. He then walked a few steps towards the rubbish bin and threw the cup inside.

He turned to face me again and gave me a small smile. "Don't worry, no coffee was spilt. I was just going to dump it inside the bin when you bumped into me."

I must have been staring at him for way too long and he surprisingly understood what I was thinking.

"I'm British. And you're not the first person to stare at me like that," he said with a chuckle.

"Oh sorry, it's just that no tourists really come to this part of Moscow, it feels so dead here," I said, still stunned as that was the first time I was talking to someone who wasn't Russian.

His accent is very fascinating.

"I quite like it here actually, it's quiet. Unlike London, full of people and noises. Pardon me for asking, but are you feeling well, miss? You look a little pale."

Great. This is embarrassing. Should I ask him for help? I mean he seems nice and is obviously rich judging from the material of his coat and the brand of his watch. I bet it costs more than ten thousand.

"Um... I'm meeting a friend by the docks in the city, but someone stole my bicycle and I have no money with me so I'm walking there. Plus, the cold weather today is not in my favour." I let out a forced laugh.

"The driver I hired should be here any second, I can give you a free ride to the docks if you like," he offered.

Should I be getting into a car with a stranger? For all I know, he could be another assassin trying to kill me. But if I don't get into that car, I might as well be dead, I couldn't have walked for another forty-five minutes.

My bones felt like they were shrinking by the second, my vision was blurred, my muscles were sprawled out. I felt like puking even though there was nothing in my system. With the last few ounces of strength I have, I managed to smile and say, "Sure, thank you so much, sir."