THE SUV headed west out of New York, speeding me away from the FBI, from my friends, from everything I knew. Ahead, storm clouds were gathering, blocking out the sun.

As we neared our destination, the men, who’d been chatting and joking with each other in Russian, gradually fell silent and began to glance at one another uneasily. Whatever was waiting for us, it scared the hell out of them.

Christina’s wet dress had soaked every last bit of warmth out of me. I sat there numb and quiet, my head filling up with all the stories I’d heard about Ralavich from my friend Kate, who’d narrowly escaped him herself. Truly sickening stuff. Murder. Human trafficking. And of course his notorious “rape clubs.” I was so scared, I wanted to throw up.

This monster believed I worked for him. And if Konstantin and Calahan had been successful, if they’d stopped the assassination, he’d blame me. My punishment wouldn’t be death, not from what I’d heard. It would be much worse than that.

I started to panic-breathe. One of the men glanced round at the sound, meeting my eyes...and then just looked away, a trace of guilt in his eyes. As if he’d seen this a thousand times before. I felt my heart rate accelerating out of control. No rescue was coming, no rescue was possible because no one knew I was missing. I could disappear into Ralavich’s nightmare world for years, decades, before he got tired of me and killed me.

And meanwhile, Christina would walk away scot-free and enjoy a life with Konstantin. Accepting his love, his new affection, and grinning behind his back, gloating at what she’d done. The thought of them together made me want to throw up.

We turned off the highway and I got a glimpse of fences and aircraft, then we stopped at a barrier. Oh God, we’re here. Some sort of private airfield, way out of the city where Ralavich could fly in and out unobserved. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I felt sweat trickle down between my shoulder blades. A guard waved us through and then the SUV pulled up beside a big, gleaming white jet. A set of metal stairs had been positioned outside, leading up to the open door. I knew who was inside. Oh God, oh God.....

As Ralavich’s men hustled me out, I lost it completely. My legs turned to rubber and I started shaking my head. “No,” I told them as they towed me forward, one on each arm. “No!”

But they ignored me. Two of them pushed me over to the steps and then up them. Overhead, there was a roll of thunder and the rain began to fall, heavy drops that soon became a torrent. By the time they’d forced me to the top of the steps and in through the door, my half-dry hair was soaked again and water was running down my face, half-blinding me. I blinked and blinked again—

And there he was. Ralavich. I felt my knees buckle in fear. The man had a physical effect on me, but it was the exact opposite of Konstantin’s magnetic attraction. It was as if all the evil inside him, had spilled out onto the surface, as a warning. That ruined face you couldn’t look away from, the bones broken and never properly put right. Those piggy eyes that made you feel dirty when they looked your way. That body, flabby with fat but still intimidatingly powerful beneath his dark blue suit. He was slouching in a huge leather armchair that had been positioned at one end of the cabin, facing down its length. He must have thought he looked like a king in his throne room, but he didn’t have any of Konstantin’s regal presence. For all his money and power, he was just a thug.

It amazed me that once, like Carrie, I’d thought all these men were the same.

“Christina,” he said, his expression unreadable. “Have you heard the news?”

The assassination. I held my breath, about to offer up a silent prayer—

But I didn’t know what to pray for. If Konstantin and Calahan had been too late, if the assassination had gone ahead, then maybe Ralavich would let me walk free. But if that was the case, Carrie was dead, Konstantin was going to jail and probably Calahan with him. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—pray for that.

And if they’d stopped it? If Konstantin and Calahan had somehow saved Carrie? Then it was over for me. But Carrie, Calahan, Konstantin...they’d all be okay.

I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed.

I heard Ralavich get up and walk towards me. And then—

One side of my face exploded into pain. I flew sideways and my head bounced off the jet’s curved wall. I crashed to the floor, my head ringing and my eyes stinging with tears.

One of Ralavich’s men grabbed me from behind and hauled me back to my feet. The fury on Ralavich’s face gave me my answer. They did it. Carrie was safe. Konstantin was free. Thank God.

Then Ralavich grabbed me by the throat and lifted me. My toes skittered on the carpet and then came completely off the ground and my whole weight dangled from my neck. My eyes bulged and teared, my face going crimson as my air was cut off.

But the flabby, clammy hand didn’t crush inwards. He didn’t squeeze hard enough to kill me, or make me pass out, because that would have been sweet mercy. He just held me there, letting my own weight press the front of my throat down into the C of his hand between thumb and forefinger, keeping me in a permanent state of near asphyxia: just enough air to still let me fight and thrash, but not enough to give me the strength to break free.

He’d mastered this, I realized, by doing it to countless other women.

“All you had to do was let him fuck you, and send some emails,” he yelled, little flecks of spit splattering my face. I couldn’t have answered, even if there’d been anything I could say. I could barely move any air into my lungs and my head felt like it was going to explode from the pressure he was applying, each heartbeat thumping and ringing through my skull. Maybe he’ll kill me accidentally. I actually found myself hoping for that.

He brought his face closer to mine. “I’m going to make it slow,” he told me. “When we get back to St. Petersburg, I’ll start you off in the clubs we keep for the military brass and the politicians, the people who have to be so snow white in public but like to do horrible things to women. Then in a year or two, I’ll move you down to the standard clubs, the ones where businessmen slap you, tear off your clothes, bend you over a desk and pretend you’re that hot new secretary they fantasize about. And in another year, when you’re not pretty anymore, I’ll move you to one of the clubs at the port, the ones for sailors and dockworkers, where you’ll be fucked for loose change, for a box of cigarettes, for whatever they have. And when you’ve been there long enough, when you think it can’t get any worse, that’s when I’ll show up, and I’ll break every bone in your body before I kill you.”

“But before I give you to the politicians,” he told me, his voice growing rough with lust, “I’m going to sample you myself.” He hurled me into his leather armchair and then he was on me, his weight crushing me, his hands tugging at the dress, ramming the shoulder straps down over my arms.

I had to make him kill me.

There was only one thing this man hated more than women, and that was law enforcement. My lips moved silently as I struggled to make my bruised throat work. When he saw I was trying to speak, he stopped for a second and smiled, looking forward to hearing me beg.

I managed a rasping whisper. “I’m not Christina.”

Ralavich and his men froze, then looked at each other in shock. They had no idea how to react. Then Ralavich burst out laughing, an ugly, cruel noise. Is that the best you can do?

“I’m FBI,” I rasped.

The laughter stopped.

“My name is Hailey Akers. The accident... they gave me plastic surgery to look like her….”

Ralavich stared at me for a moment. Then he leaned down to speak in my ear. I lay there sobbing and limp. Please believe me. Please get angry and kill me—

His lips moved against my ear, like a pair of cold, wet worms. “I actually hope that’s true,” he told me. And I gave up and just wept, because now there was no hope at all—

There was a thump and the whole plane shook. Something soft but heavy had hit the fuselage from the outside. Ralavich and his men looked up, startled. Then another thump, even harder. His men raced towards the open door to look. I craned my head up. Turning my bruised neck was agony, but I managed to look out of a window and saw two guards slumped on the runway outside. They’d been hurled like toys against the plane.

Ralavich’s men reached the door just as Konstantin stepped through it. They retreated uncertainly, pushed back by his sheer, intimidating presence.

Konstantin turned and saw me half-lying on the seat, dress askew, Ralavich atop me with his knee between my thighs.

I’d thought that I’d seen Konstantin angry: when people threatened his people, his empire. I suddenly saw that those times had been nothing. They’d been cold rage. This came from deep down, scalding and eternal.

This was love.

He didn’t yell at Ralavich or snarl threats at him. His eyes said it all. They said, you will not leave this plane alive.

I saw all the color drain from Ralavich’s face and neck. He scrambled to his feet and pulled me against him as a shield, one arm hooked around my throat.

“How?” I asked.

The pain in my voice made Konstantin tense. His scowl deepened and he wiped the edge of his finger across his lips, as if removing an unpleasant taste. “I knew,” he told me.

My chest went tight with emotion. He knew!

Konstantin turned to Ralavich. “And then I made that bitch tell me where he kept his jet.”

Sirens wailed in the distance. Flashing red and blue lit up the gloom outside. Konstantin hadn’t come alone.

The door to the cockpit flew open, startling us all. The pilot stared at the standoff, his eyes wide with fear. “The Feds are here!” he yelled. “Get that door closed, I’m getting us out of here!” He slammed the cockpit door and we heard it lock. A moment later, a rising howl came from the jet’s engines, deafening because the door was still open. The plane lurched, making everyone stagger, and then began to move off down the taxiway. The boarding steps toppled over with a crash.

Ralavich backed away from Konstantin, using the arm around my neck to drag me with him. I pulled and clawed at it, but he was terrifyingly strong and my struggling only made him cinch it tighter, cutting off my air until my hands and feet started to feel numb and heavy. “Kill him!” Ralavich spat to the two guards.

I froze as both guards put their hands under their jackets to draw their guns. But then they looked uncertainly at the moving plane. If they put a hole in it, I realized, we can’t take off. Leaving their guns in their holsters, they ran at him instead. I felt Ralavich’s arm relax a little. The men were professional bodyguards, both well over six feet and loaded with muscle, and there were two of them….

The first one came within reach. Konstantin grabbed his shirt, swung him sideways and slammed him headfirst into the wall. The man slumped to the ground and the second guard faltered and stopped. Konstantin glared at Ralavich. You. I’m coming for you next.

The arm around my neck tightened again.

Outside, I could hear shouting and gunfire. From what I could glimpse through the windows, Konstantin’s men were fighting Ralavich’s, and the FBI were arriving right in the middle of it. Then I saw Calahan, gun drawn, running alongside the plane as it picked up speed. He was trying to climb on board, but the open door was a good ten feet above the runway and without the steps, there was no way up. We were on our own.

“A hundred thousand,” Ralavich told his guard, his voice tight with panic. “A hundred thousand dollars if you kill him.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed and he ran at Konstantin, knocking him back and landing a flurry of punches. Konstantin gave a sudden grunt of pain as one hit his right arm. He hit back, but each time he used his right arm, he winced. A red flower of blood was spreading across his white shirt. He must have been injured, and the fight had opened up the wound. He threw another punch, but it was slower, weaker, and the guard blocked it easily.

A chill spread through me. Konstantin was going to lose.

Still gripping me tightly, Ralavich ventured nearer to the fight. “Did you know that I was the first to rape your mother?” he taunted.

Konstantin tensed... then grunted as he absorbed another few blows, weakening fast. I struggled helplessly against Ralavich’s arm. No! No, please!

“I was the one who beat her,” Ralavich told Konstantin. “I kept punching her because the slut wouldn’t tell me how much she loved it.”

Konstantin’s lips drew back from his teeth and he tried to launch himself towards Ralavich, but was knocked back by another punch to the face.

“It’s how I lost my virginity,” said Ralavich. “They say you never forget your first time.” He looked down at me. “I think that’s how I developed my tastes.”

Konstantin gave a yell of rage and dived forward again, but as soon as he dropped his guard, he took another punch and staggered back.

The pilot’s voice came over a speaker. “Close the fucking door! We need to take off!”

Ralavich pulled me towards the open door. Outside, the taxiway was a blur beneath the wheels: the pilot was racing towards the runway to take off. Calahan was sprinting to keep up with the plane, his clothes soaked from the rain and his chest heaving with the effort. But he was starting to fall behind. For a second, we locked eyes and I could see the raw fear and frustration there. I was about to be lost to him forever, spirited off to Russia where I’d disappear into Ralavich’s network.

Calahan moved his gaze, looking over my shoulder and into the plane. I twisted my head to look... and gave a moan of horror.

Konstantin had been forced back against the bulkhead, panting, his face pale and sweaty with pain. He was absorbing blow after blow, each one weakening him a little more. Any second now, the guard would knock him to the floor and then it would all be over. He looked at me and then past me, outside, towards Calahan. I followed his gaze—

And saw something pass between the two men. Calahan nodded to Konstantin, his eyes furious and desperate, putting all his faith in the man who’d been his enemy, lending him his strength.

Konstantin looked at me. I saw those blue eyes harden, determined—

Konstantin bellowed in rage and drove his right fist into the guard’s face hard enough to lift him right off his feet. The man crashed to the floor, but something fell free from under his jacket and went spinning across the floor towards me. His gun!

Ralavich reacted first. He let go of me and crouched, his hand clawing for it. Konstantin took a step towards the gun but he was shaky, his lips drawn back from his teeth in pain and blood dripping down his injured arm: that punch had taken everything he had. He’s not going to get there in time!

Ralavich’s fingers wrapped around the gun. I ran over to Ralavich but what the hell could I do? He was twice my size and I was staggering around in the ridiculous heels I’d bought to look like—

What would Christina do?

I lifted my foot and stamped my heel down on the back of Ralavich’s hand as hard as I could. He howled in pain and his fingers released the gun. A second later, Konstantin kicked it out of the open door.

I staggered back out of the way. Ralavich got to his feet, clutching his hand, and the two men faced off.

Konstantin’s eyes grew cold. I drew in my breath. He’d waited twenty years for vengeance. Now Ralavich had no more guards, no more protection. I knew how this would end.

So did Ralavich. As Konstantin stalked towards me, he lunged to the side and grabbed me—

And threw me out of the plane.