“How long has she been there?” he whispered.

“Since morning.”

Spartacus lifted his head and whispered a prayer of thanks.

“Uncle Pasha, give me the keys to your UAZ,” he said, hand extended.

“Right now?” the man asked in disbelief.

“No, let’s wait until the cops show up. Of course right now. Hand them over.”

The man shoved the keys into Spartacus’s palm, glaring at him. Spartacus ignored it and returned to the barn. He quietly unlocked the door and stepped inside, ducking slightly under the frame.

The moment the girl saw his tall, broad-shouldered figure, she stood and backed away in fear.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, hands held forward. “I’m here to take you home.”

“Did my father send you?”

“Almost.”

“What do you mean, ‘almost’?”

“He doesn’t know where you are. I want to take you to him myself.”

“Why should I trust you?” she asked.

“Why else would I be getting you out of here?”

They stared at each other for a moment. Then she nodded slightly and motioned for him to step outside.

Spartacus did. Uncle Pasha had vanished. As if he was never there.

“How did you find me? And who are you?”

“Just a village guy passing by. Heard a noise,” he replied, eyes fixed on the road as they drove out of the village.

“I didn’t make any noise,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “And you said my father didn’t know where I was.”

“Look, I don’t even know your name,” he said with growing impatience. “You’ll be home soon—what more do you want?”

“Maybe I don’t want to go home!”

He slammed on the brakes and turned to face her fully.

“Then we can go back to that barn, and I’ll disappear like I was never here.”

“Or maybe you could just drop me off in the city and disappear?” she snapped, not breaking eye contact.

“No,” he said calmly. “I’m taking you home. Where do you live?”

“Chicago.”

“Shit,” he muttered, tightening his lips and turning the wheel to make a U-turn.

“Hey! Where are you going?” she asked, alarmed.

“Where I need to. Why am I even dealing with you and your problems? You wanna play cat and mouse? Go ahead.”

“My name is Nadya,” she blurted out. “I really did come from the States. My father’s trying to marry me off to some friend’s son, and I don’t want that. That’s why I ran away. Please… believe me!”

Her tone shifted, and he suddenly felt a pang of sympathy. He stopped the car and rubbed his forehead, then looked at her.

“So what’s your plan—keep hiding in the woods?”

“I want to go back to America.”

“Do you have your documents?”

“Just my Russian ID. I grabbed it just in case. My passport’s back home.”

He gave a slight smirk. “Well, that’s probably for the best. Saves you money on a ticket. They’ll grab you at the airport the moment you show up. So your options are… limited.”

She leaned back in the seat, studying him closely. Then, with a click of her tongue, she said in a husky voice, “There is one foolproof option.”

“You’re looking at me real weird, Nadya…”

“I, um… I don’t have much money right now, but I swear I’ll repay you well if you help me. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Spartacus,” he replied.

“Spartacus? Really?”

“Really.”

“Pretty unusual name for a village guy… though you are a bit different from the rest.”

He smirked again and turned away. “My father named me after the guy in the book. The Thracian. He loved that story.”

“I should probably read it sometime,” she murmured.

He glanced at her, paused, then asked, “So what now? It’s getting late.” He looked at his watch.

“Spartacus, marry me.”

“What?!”

“Not for real,” she straightened in her seat, “just… on paper.”