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“Pain is temporary,” he told me once, as I struggled to catch my breath after a particularly brutal sparring session. “It’s just a signal from your body. Acknowledge it, and then let it go. Focus on the goal, on what matters most.”

What matters most. Seraphina. Nico. Our baby. My family.

I let that thought fill me up, let it drown out the pain and the fear and the overwhelming exhaustion. I’m moving again, running faster, harder, my legs pumping and my heart pounding as I fly through the maze like a woman possessed.

I will not let them catch me. I will not let them win.

I am Katerina Sokolov, and I will not be broken.

Not now. Not ever.

I round another corner, my lungs burning and my legs shaking with fatigue. But what I see next makes me nearly scream with horror.

A dead end. A solid wall of hedges, too high to climb and too thick to break through.

No. No, no, no.

I skid to a halt, my heart in my throat and my blood turning to ice in my veins. This can’t be happening. I can’t be trapped, not now, not when I’m so close.

I spin around, desperately searching for another way out. But there is none. Just the path I came from, and the sound of footsteps getting closer by the second.

Then someone’s there, filling the entrance to the dead end. He’s huge, easily six and a half feet tall, with arms the size of tree trunks and a face that looks like it was carved from granite.

He grins at me, a slow, cruel smile that makes my stomach churn with fear and revulsion. “End of the line, princess,” he drawls. “Time to stop running.”

I back away, my hands curling into fists at my sides. I may be trapped, but I’m not helpless. Nikolai and Maksim taught me how to fight, how to use an opponent’s size and strength against them.

I just have to stay calm and focused. Wait for an opening then strike hard and fast.

“Come any closer and I’ll scream,” I warn him, my voice steady despite the terror clawing at my throat. “I’ll bring the whole fucking house down on your head.”

He laughs, a harsh, ugly sound that makes my skin crawl. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Scream all you want. No one’s coming to save you.”

He takes a step forward, his hands flexing at his sides like he’s imagining how it will feel to wrap them around my neck. I tense, every muscle in my body coiled and ready to spring.

“Last chance,” he says, his eyes glittering with feral delight. “Come quietly, and maybe I won’t hurt you too bad.”

I bare my teeth in a snarl, channeling every ounce of Sokolov steel in my veins. “Fuck you,” I hiss, then I’m launching myself at him with a raw, primal scream.

I aim low, just like Maksim taught me, driving my shoulder into his gut and slamming my knee up between his legs with all the force I can muster. He grunts in pain, doubling over, and for a moment, I think I’ve done it, I’ve taken him down.

But his hand is closing around my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh like iron bands. He yanks me toward him, spinning me around and slamming me face-first into the hedge.

I taste blood, feel the sharp sting of thorns tearing at my skin. But I don’t stop fighting, don’t stop struggling. I claw at his eyes, his face, anything I can reach.

He swears, his grip loosening for a split second and I take my chance, wrenching myself free and spinning around to face him.

But he’s too fast, too strong. His fist catches me in the jaw, a brutal, backhanded blow that snaps my head to the side and sends me staggering. I reel, my vision blurring and my ears ringing. I try to blink away the stars, to focus through the pain, but it’s too much, too fast.

He lunges for me again, his hands outstretched like claws. I try to dodge, to slip past him, but my movements are sluggish and uncoordinated.

His fingers close around my arm once more, yanking me toward him with a vicious jerk. I scream, thrashing and kicking with every ounce of strength I have left. I claw at his face, my nails raking down his cheek, drawing blood. But he barely seems to feel it.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” the man says, not at all sounding sorry. “Boss’s orders.”

In slow motion, I see his fist, hurtling toward my face. Pain explodes behind my eyes, a white-hot burst that sends me spiraling. I’m falling, the world tilting and spinning around me. I try to catch myself, but my limbs won’t obey or do anything but twitch and shudder uselessly.

The last thing I see before the darkness takes me is his face, looming over me, a cell phone already at his ear. His lips are moving, forming words, but I can’t hear them. I squint, watching as his mouth forms the word…Luca.