The sharp edges of gravel, debris, and vegetation sliced into my soles, but I couldn’t slow down.
Behind me, the steady footsteps grew louder—measured, controlled, gaining ground with each stride.
My heart thundered in my ears, and I sucked in air. This wasn’t some guard stumbling after me in the dark. This person knew exactly what they were doing, like a shark on the attack.
The fence stretched endlessly in both directions. I ran alongside it, scanned desperately for the gap Birdie mentioned. My lungs burned as I pushed harder, ignoring the stabbing pain in my feet and the fact that I actually really hated running.
There—a section where the chain link had been pulled back.
Thank God.
I dropped down to my hands and knees and scrambled through the narrow opening, but my hair got caught. I pushed harder, shifted my head to dislodge my hair. I didn’t have time for this shit.
I jerked my head to the other side. Jagged metal tore through the skin on my temple. I bit back a cry as white-hot pain blazed across my face and down my neck.
But at least I was free.
I forced myself up. Safety was right there, in the trees beyond the fence, if I could just reach them.
I couldn’t stop now.
Heavy breathing, the crunch of boots, and the squeak of metal told me my pursuer had reached the fence, as well. The sound sent ice through my veins, warring with the fire in my face and feet. Part of me wanted to collapse, to give up.
But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I was a Salvini—we didn’t surrender.
I pushed through the pain and ran for the tree line.
Fuck these assholes.
I was maybe five feet from the trees when a solid mass slammed into me from behind. The impact drove the air from my lungs as we hit the ground hard. My shoulder screamed in protest.
Training kicked in. I twisted, brought up my hips and ass in an attempt to get him off me. I channeled everything I had like a bucking horse, trying to shake off the saddle.
He blocked all of my moves, then grabbed my hips, flipped me around as if I was a doll, and pinned me down. I aimed my hits in the general direction of his throat, but he captured my wrists in both of his large hands while he pinned my lower body with all of his weight.
“Jesus, woman. Stop fighting,” a familiar voice commanded.
My blood ran cold. I knew that voice.
Had met the man.
Ivan Zotov. Of course.
It had to be the one man whose presence alone filled every pore of me with pure annoyance.
He moved like a predator, all contained power, lethal grace, and a deadly smile.
I wanted to wipe the smile off his face so badly, I could taste it.
The fact that he had zero problems overpowering me was infuriating. And the fact that it was him—that was the worst insult.
Of course, it had to be him. Of course, he was the one behind all of this.
He shifted his weight, maintaining control while staring at me.
My heart rate picked up for reasons that had nothing to do with fear or exertion and everything to do with my hate for him. “Vaffanculo!” I snarled, then switched to English. “Get off me, you big, dumb oaf.”
His expression changed when he suddenly stared at my temple, and something flickered in those cold blue eyes. His grip gentled slightly though he didn’t release me.
