The city breathed like a living thing around me, its neon veins pulsing with poisoned light. Rain slashed sideways through the alleyways, mixing with the copper taste in my mouth. My bare feet burned against the pavement - had I been running for minutes or hours? The staccato rhythm of my heartbeat drowned out all other sounds.
Don't look back. Don't stop.
A jagged memory sliced through my panic: gloved hands dragging me from a car trunk, a man's voice hissing "Remember nothing" before the needle pierced my neck. Then - emptiness.
I skidded around a corner, my shoulder slamming into a dumpster. The impact sent white-hot pain through my ribs. Somewhere behind me, boots splashed through puddles in steady pursuit.
Three men. Maybe four.
My fingers found the switchblade tucked in my bra strap - the only possession I'd woken with besides the bloodstained cocktail dress clinging to my skin. The engraved initials A.C. gleamed on the blade's hilt.
A.C. Alexandra Caine. The name floated up from the void, followed by another: Victor.
A gunshot cracked through the night. Concrete exploded inches from my face. I dove behind a stack of pallets just as headlights flooded the alley. A black SUV screeched to a halt, doors flying open.
"Spread out," growled a voice that vibrated through my bones. "She can't have gone far."
I pressed deeper into the shadows, the knife trembling in my grip. The headlights revealed four silhouettes fanning out with military precision. Then a fifth figure emerged from the passenger seat, taller than the others, his coat swallowing the light.
Ethan.
The name came unbidden, along with a rush of conflicting emotions - fear and something dangerously close to longing. He removed his gloves with deliberate slowness, revealing hands that looked capable of both tenderness and violence.
"Alex," he called, his voice curling around my name like smoke. "We know you're there."
Trey - the broad-shouldered one with the tactical vest - kicked over a trash can with one boot. "You're bleeding," he said, nostrils flaring like he could scent the wound on my thigh. "Let us help."
Liam materialized from the darkness beside me, his grin flashing white in the gloom. "Or we could do this the fun way." His fingers brushed my waist before I could react.
I slashed out with the knife. He dodged effortlessly, laughing as the blade nicked his leather jacket. "Feisty. I like it."
Amir stepped into the light, his obsidian eyes tracking every twitch of my body. "Enough games." He nodded toward the SUV. "Victor's waiting."
At that name, my vision fractured.
Memory: Victor's lips against my ear. "They'll come for you, solnyshko. And when they do..."
Jace - the youngest-looking with his cracked glasses and nervous fingers - suddenly appeared at my other side. "She's dissociating," he murmured, tapping something into his smartwatch. "Ethan, we need to—"
"Move." Ethan's command cut through the noise. In one fluid motion, he caught my wrist, twisted the knife free, and pulled me against his chest. His heartbeat thundered against my cheek. "Look at me."
When I didn't obey, his fingers tightened in my hair, forcing my gaze upward. The streetlight caught the gold flecks in his gray eyes. "Whatever Victor told you," he said, each word precise as a scalpel, "it was a lie."
The others closed ranks around us. Trey's hand settled at the small of my back. Liam produced a silver flask and pressed it to my lips. Amir watched the alley's entrance, a gun materializing in his grip. Jace adjusted his glasses, muttering about trauma responses.
And through it all - the creeping certainty that I'd stood exactly like this before, surrounded by these men, with Victor's voice whispering warnings in my skull.