"Sophia, RUN!"
Marina's scream rips through the silence.
A gunshot cracks through the air.
My hand flies to my mouth, muffling the scream that tries to escape. The sound echoes in my ears, drowning out everything else.
I freeze for one heartbeat. Two.
Then I see her.
Marina lies face down on the kitchen floor. Her blonde hair spreads across the linoleum like spilled honey. A dark stain grows beneath her, seeping outward in a pattern I recognize from too many nightmares.
"Hello, little bride."
Daniil Morozov stands over Marina's body, his gun still raised. His pale eyes find mine across the apartment, and his lips curve into that smile I remember from the engagement party. The one that made my skin crawl.
"We have unfinished business, you and I."
I bolt.
My legs move before my brain catches up, propelling me toward Marina's bedroom. Behind me, Daniil's laughter fills the apartment.
"Where will you go, zayka?" His footsteps follow mine. "This apartment is so small. So few places to hide."
I slam the bedroom door and twist the lock, my fingers fumbling with the mechanism. The metal clicks into place, but I know it won't hold him for long.
The knife. Lorenzo's voice echoes in my head: "Always armed, tesoro. Even when you think you're safe."
I leap across Marina's unmade bed, my hand reaching for the nightstand where I'd set it earlier. My fingers close around the familiar handle
"I wanted to show you," I'd told Marina just some minutes ago, pulling it from the sheath on my thigh. "Lorenzo insists I wear it whenever I leave the compound."
She'd wrinkled her nose at the weapon, and I'd left it on her nightstand before heading to the bathroom. Before everything went wrong.
A gunshot explodes through the apartment. Wood splinters as the bullet tears through the door near the handle. I jump back instinctively, and the knife slips from my grip. It clatters against the hardwood and slides under the bed.
"No, no, no." I drop to my knees, reaching desperately beneath the bed frame.
The door swings open, hanging crooked on its damaged hinges.
Daniil fills the doorway, his massive frame blocking any escape route. The gun hangs loose in his hand, like he's not even concerned I might fight back. His pale eyes sweep over me, still on my knees beside the bed.
"Did you really think locking the door would stop me?" His accent makes the words sound almost musical, but there's nothing beautiful about the way he looks at me. Like I'm already his.
I push myself to my feet, forcing my spine straight. My legs shake, but I won't let him see me cower. "What the hell do you want?"
"Such language from Francesco's sweet niece." He steps into the room, and I back away until my legs hit the bed. "I want what is mine, zayka. What was promised to me before the Sartoris interfered."
"I'm not yours." The words come out steadier than I feel. "I never was. I'm married to?—"
"A piece of paper." Daniil waves his gun dismissively. "A ceremony. These things mean nothing in our world without power to back them up."
"The Sartoris have power."
"Not here. Not now." He moves close. "Your husband isn't here to save you, little bride. No one is."
My mind races through the self-defense moves Lorenzo taught me, but they all require getting close to Daniil. Close to that gun.
