Page 7 of Fierce Pursuit

My life depended on it.

I focused on the space directly in front of me, too afraid to look back. Just one foot in front of the other, running as fast as I could, weaving through the crowded street.

Then—impact.

My shoulder slammed into some guy too busy staring at his phone to see where he was going. The collision sent me sprawling.

Pain shot through my palms as I hit the pavement, the rough concrete scraping my skin raw. A few people stopped to help, but they only got in my way, blocking my view.

I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the sharp ache in my knee.

And looked over my shoulder.

Stupid. Of course he was still following me.

This was Konstantine.

The man who had chased me across Europe, relentless as a shadow, and now across America.

He was far too close. Half a block away, at most. Shoving his way through the crowd, his piercing gaze locked onto me.

Kostya was a force.

A man built for war; tall, powerful, terrifyingly focused. He could see over the heads of the pedestrians, moving with the confidence of someone who knew he could take whatever he wanted.

I wasn’t tall. I wasn’t powerful.

But I was fast.

And that had its advantages.

I twisted through the sea of people, ducking into the middle of a group of giggling schoolgirls in matching uniforms.

Kostya wouldn’t shove aside a bunch of teenage girls. Too much attention. Too much risk.

Men like him hated police involvement. Bribes cut into their bottom line.

A few of the girls shrieked as I pushed through them, others cursed me out, but they all clumped together in confusion, blocking the sidewalk.

Perfect.

It bought me a few precious seconds.

And on the other side of them, I saw it…my salvation.

The ugly green metal staircase leading up to the L.

I could practically taste the stale air, thick with sweat and exhaust. Could already smell the cloyingly sweetcleanser that did nothing to mask the mystery stains on the seats or the toxic fumes of the drunk old man reeking of Malört.

Those weren’t just scents. They were something you experienced.

And right now, they smelled like freedom.

I pushed harder.

My thighs screamed, every footfall sending a jolt of pain up my legs.

And I relished it.

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