“Feisty little bitch,” one of them grunted as they dragged her toward a black van that had appeared at the mouth of the alley. “The boss is going to enjoy breaking you.”
“Let me go!” she twisted in their grip, panic flooding her system as they hauled her off her feet. “You don’t understand, my husband will kill you for this!”
“Your husband’s not here, is he?” The third man opened the van’s sliding door, and she could see zip ties and duct tape waiting inside. “Don’t worry, princess. We’ll take real good care of you.”
The casual cruelty in his voice, the way they manhandled her like she was nothing more than cargo, sent her into full fight-or-flight mode. She managed to get one leg free and drove her knee up into the groin of the man holding her. He doubled over with a howl of pain, and in the moment his grip loosened, she broke free.
She ran harder than she’d ever run in her life, her lungs burning as she tore through the maze of side streets and alleyways that surrounded the shopping district. Behind her, she could hear them shouting, their footsteps echoing off the buildings as they gave chase.
The sky had been threatening rain all day, and it chose that moment to open up in a torrential downpour that soaked her to the skin in seconds. The streets became slick and treacherous, and her heels provided no traction on the wet pavement.
She made it three more blocks before she went down hard, her ankle twisting as she slipped on the rain-slicked concrete. Pain shot up her leg like lightning, and she cried out as she hit the ground.
No. No, no, no. She couldn’t be caught like this, helpless and injured in some random alley while those animals closed in on her.
The rain was coming down so hard she could barely see two feet in front of her. Everything was shadows and distorted shapes, water running into her eyes and making the world blur around her. She tried to get up, but her ankle gave out immediately, sending another wave of agony through her body.
She was trapped. Hurt and alone and completely fucking helpless, just like...
Just like before.
The memory hit her like a punch, dragging her back to another rainy night, another moment of helplessness and terror. She could feel her chest tightening, her breathing becoming shallow and rapid as panic clawed its way up her throat.
Not then. She couldn’t fall apart now, not when those men were still out there looking for her.
But she could hear them getting closer, their voices carrying through the rain as they searched the surrounding streets. She pressed herself against a dumpster, trying to makeherself as small as possible, trying to control the shaking that had nothing to do with the cold.
Through the curtain of rain, she saw shadows moving at the mouth of the alley. Three figures, methodical and determined, checking every hiding spot as they worked their way toward her.
This was it. They were going to find her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Then she heard the gunshots.
Three sharp cracks that cut through the rain like thunder, followed by the heavy sound of bodies hitting the pavement. The shadows at the end of the alley crumpled and went still.
She huddled against the dumpster, her heart hammering so hard she thought it might burst, waiting for whoever had just killed her pursuers to show themselves. Friend or enemy, savior or just another threat, she had no way of knowing.
Footsteps approached through the rain, steady and purposeful, and she held her breath as a familiar figure emerged from the gloom.
Viktor.
He was soaked to the skin, his dark hair plastered to his head, his expensive suit ruined by the rain and what looked like blood spatter. In his right hand, he held a smoking pistol, and his ice-blue eyes were scanning the alley with the cold efficiency of a predator.
When his gaze found her huddled against the dumpster, something shifted in his expression. The cold calculation was replaced by something raw and urgent that she couldn’t quite identify.
“Anka.” He holstered his weapon and moved toward her, his hands raised like he was approaching a wounded animal. “Are you hurt?”
She tried to answer, tried to tell him about her ankle and the men and how fucking terrified she’d been, but all that came out was a broken sob. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her shaking and hollow and completely fucking pathetic.
“Hey.” He crouched down in front of her, his voice gentler than she’d heard it since their wedding day. “You’re safe now. They’re dead. They can’t hurt you.”
“My ankle,” she managed to choke out. “I think it’s sprained.”
He looked down at where she was cradling her injured foot, then back at her face. “I’m going to carry you to the car, okay? Is that alright?”
The question surprised her. He was asking permission, as if he were afraid of making things worse, instead of just taking charge like he usually did.
“I’m too heavy,” she protested automatically, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
