Chapter 7: Lucky

The sheriff was still waiting for Nadja’s answer.

For a split second, irritation flared inside her. The easiest solution pressed at the back of her mind—quick, clean, final. One movement, one mistake erased. But instinct snapped her back into place. Nadja inhaled sharply, lifted her hands, and covered her face.

Then she began to cry.

“Hey—hey, relax,” the sheriff said at once, his tone softening. “We didn’t mean any harm.”

A second figure appeared from behind the patrol car—a woman, older, steady-eyed, her badge catching the dull glow of the headlights.

“What’s going on, Bill?” the woman called as she approached.

“I think this woman needs help,” Bill replied, stepping slightly aside to give her room.

The female officer stopped in front of Nadja, her voice low and calm. “Ma’am? Is everything alright?”

Nadja lowered her hands slowly. Her eyes were red now, her breathing uneven. When she spoke, her voice shook just enough to sound real.

“I ran away from my husband,” she said between sobs. “We didn’t have time to take anything—just our wallets and a few clothes. He hit me. He hit my daughter.” She swallowed hard. “Please… please don’t arrest us.”

The woman’s expression changed instantly. She crouched slightly, angling her flashlight toward the back seat.

“Oh my God,” she murmured. “Your daughter—she has bruises on her forehead. On her cheeks.” Her voice tightened. “Have you taken her to a doctor? A hospital?”

Nadja shook her head. “We didn’t have time. We only stopped at the nearest motel to clean her up.” She hesitated, then added, “You can ask the motel owner. Or… or call my friend Ben. He helped us. He lent us the car.”

“Ben who?” Bill asked, skeptical but attentive.

“Ben owns Meat My Pie,” Nadja replied softly. “The restaurant. In International Falls. Everyone knows it.”

Bill frowned, already pulling out his phone. “Stay here.”

As he stepped away, Nadja pressed her lips together, keeping her breathing shallow. She continued quietly, as if confessing something painful she’d held in too long.

“I just came from Serbia,” she said to the female officer. “My husband took our daughter away. I refused to sign the divorce papers.” Her voice cracked. “That’s when he started hitting us.”

The officer nodded slowly, sympathy written across her face.

A few minutes later, Bill returned. His posture had shifted—less suspicion, more resolve.

“Luckily, Ben still awake,” he said. “He confirmed everything.” He looked toward the back seat again. “We’re taking your daughter to the hospital. Right now. After that, you’re free to go.”

Nadja bowed her head. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

They drove side by side to the hospital, red and blue lights cutting through the snow. Inside the car, Nadja wiped her cheeks, her expression flattening the moment she turned away from the officers.

“Good,” she muttered under her breath.

Gabriel remained silent, staring straight ahead.

After a moment, the girl spoke. “Ben sounds like he’s helping you kidnap me.”

Nadja scoffed. “Kidnap you? Why would I kidnap a poor kid like you?” She shot her a sideways glance. “No one’s paying for your life. No one’s coming to save you. Your whole family is dead. Did you forget that already?”

Gabriel gasped. The images came rushing back—her grandparents collapsing, her mother screaming, shielding her, bleeding. Tears slid down her cheeks, silent and steady.

They’d lived quietly. Hidden. They never bothered anyone. So why had this happened? Who were those people? Thieves? Murderers? Their house wasn’t even worth robbing.

“I hate you!” Gabriel shouted, curling into the back seat.

Nadja didn’t respond.

At the hospital, a nurse greeted them with a gentle smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Gabriel looked instinctively toward Nadja.

“My daughter is mute,” Nadja said calmly. “She can’t use sign language. Her name is Gabriel.”

“Oh,” the nurse said softly. “That’s okay. We’ll take good care of you.”

Gabriel was wheeled away, and Nadja sat in the waiting room beside the female officer.

“I’ve been through domestic violence,” the woman said after a while. “Five years of therapy. You never really forget it.”

Nadja turned her head slightly, studying her. Luck, it seemed, was firmly on her side tonight.

“Everything happened so fast,” Nadja whispered. “Please… don’t file a report yet. At least not until we leave town. My husband—he’s dangerous. He won’t stop.”

The officer nodded without hesitation. “We’ll handle him. Ben can testify for you.”

Bill joined them again. “How are you planning to leave town?”

Nadja shook her head. “I don’t know.”

That part, at least, was true.

“I didn’t bring documents,” she added. “If you want DNA tests—”

“No need,” Bill interrupted. “Ben’s word is enough.”

He smiled. “I might be able to get you on a flight. One way.”

Nadja have no idea, how lucky she was right now.

“Anyway, I’m Bill. This is Riley.” The man trusted her with no doubt.

“Nadja. Nadja Romanoff,” she replied, voice trembling.

Bill’s eyes lit up. “I might be able to help you get on a flight. No ID. One way only. I know someone.”

Nadja clasped her hands together. “You would do that for us?” Her voice broke with gratitude. “God bless you.”

This time, her smile was real.

Gabriel returned shortly after. No fractures. No internal injuries. Cleared.

She walked more slowly than before. She climbed into the chair beside Nadja, leaning subtly into her side—not touching, just close enough to feel someone there.

“There’s a flight to New York at five,” Bill said. “You should take it.”

At the airport, a woman ushered them through security with sympathetic efficiency

“So many awful people in the world,” she murmured.

As boarding was called, Gabriel tugged gently at Nadja’s sleeve.

“Where is New York?” she asked.

“Far,” Nadja said. “Far enough.”

Gabriel nodded, then hesitated. “Will they find us?”

Nadja looked at her for a long moment.

“Not easily,” she said.

On the plane, Gabriel sat by the window, watching the ground fall away. Her reflection stared back at her—small, frightened, alive.

Nadja watched her in silence.

Freedom, she thought, always demanded payment. And the child beside her had already paid far too much.