Kirill
“Kirill Miroslavovich,” Gray’s anxious voice came through the phone, “Vera was taken from work by ambulance. We’re following.”
Kirill’s heart stopped, and veins bulged on his forehead from rage.
“How?!” he shouted like a madman. “What happened?!”
“The staff said she lost consciousness.”
“Which hospital are they taking her to?”
“Seventeenth.”
“Gray, keep everything under control. I’m on my way.”
He raced through the city at insane speed, ignoring all traffic rules. With every second, the anxiety grew. Kirill burst into the hospital like a tornado and shouted from the doorway:
“Where is Vera Strelnikova?!”
The receptionist didn’t answer right away. She leafed through a logbook for a long moment, then looked up at the barely restrained man.
“Another relative?”
“Talk,” Kiril
