lengths he would take to force me back to Miami before my week of freedom ended. Moscow was a beautiful city, full of rich architecture and history. I took everything in with wide, curious eyes. I was born here, and walking the streets made me feel close to my roots. Even the air felt lighter here, filling my lungs with the taste of emancipation. I had to stop and ask for directions twice, but eventually, I stood in front of the opera house. The wind whipped at my ponytail, and I shivered beneath my coat. The place looked deserted, but I tried the front door anyway. It was locked. I gave it a harder wiggle, but it didn’t budge. I cupped my hands and peered through the glass. The foyer sat empty, not even a janitor sweeping the floors. Maybe I’d have better luck at a later hour. Disappointed I’d gotten nowhere, I started my trek back. A few blocks over, a familiar awareness touched the nape of my neck. With an uncomfortable chill seeping through my skin, I halted and turned around. Pedestrians split off to walk around me on the sidewalk. Nobody seemed to pay me any attention, so I tried to push my discomfort away. I didn’t make it far before feeling it again. Another glance behind me, and through the crowd on the street, I saw a tattooed hand bringing a cigarette to a masculine set of lips. The image reminded me of the man sitting in his car across from my hotel yesterday. My lungs went cold. Could someone actually be watching me like Ivan said? Why? Horrid things like sex trafficking consumed my thoughts as I slipped my hands into my pockets and picked up the pace. I glanced behind me again to see the man in a black coat smoking and following at a comfortable distance. My chest tightened with each quick, shallow breath. Just as I made it to the hotel doors, I looked back to find he was gone. Then, I ran into something hard and yelped. “Whoa.” I knew that voice. I put a hand on my heart as Ronan steadied me. “You all right?” “I thought I...” I was out of breath.