I picked the motel for its strategic location. It’s always busy around here, which makes it harder for anyone to drag me into a car kicking and screaming without anyone noticing.

We’re right across the street from a twenty-four-hour diner. “I’m starving,” I say. “I didn’t get a chance to eat today.” That’s a lie, so I stare at the diner as I say it, rather than at Sergei. “Could we go over there and grab some lunch before we hit the road? I feel like I’m about to be sick.” I’m trying to make it compelling. If he thinks I’m merely uncomfortable, he may not care.

He shrugs. “I’ll send Maks to get you something.”

I give him a skeptical glance. “Are you afraid I’ll try to call out for help if we go into a restaurant?” But I keep my voice light and non-threatening.

“Maybe.” He glances at Maks, who shakes his head in annoyance and heads across the street.

“Grilled cheese and fries! And a chocolate shake!” I yell at Maks. Maks doesn’t bother to look back; he just raises his fist to give me a middle-finger salute.

“Keep your voice down,” Sergei says, with a pleasant smile that doesn’t fool me at all. “Stop trying to draw attention to yourself.”

He gestures at a bench by a lamppost, and I sit down. Jasha and Sergei settle down on either side of me, a pair of giant bookends squeezing me between them. Slavik stands next to the bench with his arms folded, constantly scanning the street. Always expecting the worst, seeking out all the potential hiding spots where Sergei’s enemies might lie in wait. The rooftops, the alleys, the doorways – in Sergei’s world, they’re not part of the architecture. They’re camouflage for snipers.

I’ve lived like that myself ever since we went on the run, and it’s exhausting. It paints the world around you in an ugly light.

But I’m happy to see there’s a line of people out the door of the diner, and Maks is at the end. This should take a while.

I push my hair out of my eyes and blow out an exasperated breath. “Why would I try to escape? I think we’ve already established that you can find me anywhere. How exactly did you find me again?”

Sergei shrugs and brushes aside the question of how he tracked me down. “If you made a big enough ruckus, if you called for the police, it would draw unwanted attention to me. That’s not ideal for a man in my line of work. Mind you, I’m more cautious than your uncle. My businesses are all clean. An audit would turn up nothing. But still…I like my privacy.”

If he wants privacy, he’d better not try to drag me into his car.

What he doesn’t know is, I’m not going with him. I’m not going back to that beautiful prison, where I’m at the mercy of his cruel moods.

I’m done with being a prisoner. I’m done living my life as a victim of my genetics.

Yes, I was born into a family of drug dealers and illegal arms dealers.

But that was them, not me. I never wanted any part of it. I didn’t even find out what we really did for a living until after my parents died and I moved in with my uncle. Vilyat was far less cautious about keeping his activities secret, and I stumbled on the truth when I was home from college.

I was horrified – but I was also trapped. My family was extremely controlling, and for me to leave, I would have had to go into hiding, with no money and no job skills.

I considered running when I found out, but I also saw how my aunt was slipping into a medicated haze, and how much my cousins needed me.

Well, no more. They’re free, and I’m done. I would rather die than live life as a slave.

After all, what would happen to me if I went back to Sergei’s house? He’s got some hidden agenda, and I have no idea what he plans to do to me.

I know that if I run, he is very likely to hunt me down and kill me. In his world, letting someone wiggle their way out of an agreement calls for retribution. If he doesn’t come after me, he’s admitting weakness. So he wouldn’t even have a choice, not if he wants to stay at the top of the heap. It’s him or me.

I’m not suicidal. Far from it. I’m terrified.

But if I disappear behind those white stucco walls again, I’m afraid I’ll never emerge.

I don’t trust this version of Sergei, because his moods are mercurial, shifting without warning or reason. Yes, so far he’s been less cruel – at least out here in the open. But first and foremost he’s a warrior, and everything he does is strategic. He’s trying to lull me into a sense of false security, and the second I slide into his darkened vehicle, he’ll go right back to the way he was, or worse.

“Why do you even want me back?” I ask him in a low voice. “You were holding me for collateral. My uncle already cut and ran; you know he’s not going to pay you and he doesn’t care if you torture me and then serve me up as stew.” Maybe I shouldn’t give Sergei any ideas. I clear my throat and forge ahead. “I have no value to you anymore.”

He ignores me, staring straight ahead.

“How is Lukas?” I ask.

He gives me a nasty look. “Fine. I make sure of that, every day. But you left him behind, so you’ve lost the right to ask about his welfare.”

Now I’m pissed.

“You told me I’d never be allowed to see him again, even though you knew it would hurt him deeply, so don’t try to make me feel bad about leaving. If I’d stayed, I still wouldn’t have been allowed to see him, you hypocritical motherfucker. Any pain that child is suffering, you are one hundred percent responsible for,” I snap at him.

He nods. “Fair point.”

Well, this is something. He’s actually letting me disagree with him, without threatening me or brutalizing me.

But it’s not enough, and it’s much too late.

And we fall silent.

The silence stretches on and on. The sun is rising higher in the sky and heat shimmers up from the sidewalk. Sweat rolls down my forehead and stings my eyes, and I wipe it with the back of my hand. I can’t remember where my fake glasses are. I’m not wearing makeup anymore. I didn’t style my hair in waves this morning, and the dark color is starting to fade. Willow is re-emerging, and Sarah is fading.

I wonder what kind of disguise I’ll use when I escape this time.

If I escape.

I pass the time dreaming up new hair colors. New looks. Red. Platinum blonde. Green contact lenses? Brown contact lenses?

None of his men speak a word. People glance at them as they walk by. They can’t help it; Sergei and his men demand attention without trying. They’re too big, too dangerous, to blend in. They’re like a pride of lions moving through a herd of gazelles.

Maks finally brings the food back to me. When I thank him, he mutters, “Fuck yourself” in Russian.

“Better than fucking you,” I reply, also in Russian. “At least I know I’ll come.” That last bit is in English. Jasha chokes on a laugh, and I see Sergei’s lips twitch in an almost-smile.

I force myself to eat, taking my time between each bite. I chew slowly and thoroughly. I’m too nervous to eat much.

Then I walk over to a garbage can, and Sergei comes with me, attached to me like an enormous shadow. I toss the fast food containers in. His men are standing about twenty feet away, watching us, scanning the crowd, always aware of their surroundings. I glance back at the parking lot. The dark car has moved to the sidewalk now, and its motor is running.

“You weren’t that hungry after all,” Sergei says, looking mildly amused. Damn it, he knows I’m stalling – I’m sure of it now. I feel a shiver of unease.

But a crowd of people are walking towards us, and I have my chance. Probably my only chance.

“I’m leaving,” I inform him.

“You really think so?” He cocks his head to the side, looking at me with polite interest.

“I know so. And you want to know why?”

“Not particularly.”

I snort. “Remarks like that are a big part of the reason I’m not coming back. Because you treat me like crap, and I’m so over it. I don’t care that you and I have the most amazing sex ever.”

“Well, thank you, Willow, that’s so sweet of you.” His lip curls up in a smirk.

I plow on. “Don’t interrupt me. I was willing to live up to the agreement that my uncle made for me, even though you punished me and abused me for things I never did. I sat there while you insulted me, knocked me around, humiliated me like I was a streetwalker – and I would have taken it all. But I never agreed to let the abuse extend to my family. When you locked me away from my cousins, that ended us.”

“I see.”

He should be threatening me more. He’s being too calm. It worries me.

I plow on. He’s just trying to psych me out. He can’t take me here in front of all these people. Unlike Feodyr, he’s not the type to murder innocent bystanders, and he also has plans for his future. He’s not a suicidal nutjob. He has no choice but to let me go.

“You haven’t even said what you expect of me now, but I don’t care. I have no reason to stay with you, with the way you treat me. And I will never forgive you for keeping me from my family.”

He nods. “Understandable.”

What the hell? Why isn’t he threatening me? I know he didn’t come all this way just to let me smart off to him and then walk away.

The crowd is moving past me now, and this is my chance. I leap to my feet and muscle my way into the middle of the crowd as they hurry across the street to make the light.

I glance behind me, heart hammering against my ribcage. Sergei and his men are walking behind the group.

When we get to the other side, I make a break and run for it. Fear makes me lighter than air. I dash down the street, down the block, around a corner. Now I’m right across the street from a police kiosk. I know where all of them are.

Sergei and Maks come pounding up behind me. The dark car glides up to the curb in front of me and idles there. Jasha and Slavik come shooting out of an alleyway and block my path.

People are looking at us warily.

I glare at Sergei. “You don’t want attention? Then get the hell away from me, now. Off this street. Out of my life. Otherwise…” I glance across the street at the police kiosk. “You have no idea how loud I can scream.”

“Oh, I think I do.” He smirks when he says that, and Jasha chortles. Motherfucking fuck-faces. When Sergei took me to his playroom and punished me, he played it over the intercom so his men could hear my cries.

Well, that’s not going to happen again. “I am never coming back with you,” I rage at him. Why the hell isn’t he taking me more seriously? “You’ll have to kill me first.”

“Perhaps this will change your mind,” Sergei says to me.

Maks waves a computer tablet at me, and my heart stutters in my chest. I should have known that Sergei wouldn’t let me slip through his fingers that easily. He didn’t get to where he is today by letting amateurs like me get the jump on him.

Maks thrusts the tablet right in front of my face. My aunt Anastasia’s frightened face looks back at me.

“Willow, they have us. I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

Sergei has had them all along. While he was whipping me, while we were having sex, while I was pretending to sleep, while I was showering, while I was eating.

He let me think I was in control, then snatched the control away from me. He was toying with me, a tomcat gently batting a mouse between its enormous paws before he sinks his fangs in.

The sidewalk seems to move beneath my feet, and I stagger, and Sergei puts his hand on my shoulder to steady me.

A cloud slides over the sun, and I feel darkness closing in on me. He’s stolen everything from me. My family. My freedom. My future.

I will never escape this life.