Mikhail’s hands still trembled, the adrenaline refusing to fade as he pressed his back against the rough wooden wall of the abandoned cabin. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, his mind still running through everything that had just happened.
They had barely gotten away.
Barely.
Makayla was pacing. A habit of hers when she was trying to think through a situation, but there was something different about the way she moved now—less restless, more... frantic.
Mikhail swallowed hard.
She was feeling it too.
The inevitability of it all.
They had run, they had fought, but deep down, they both knew the truth.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.
And no matter how far they got, no matter how well they hid, Gino would never stop.
Mikhail knew his father.
And a man like that?
He didn’
