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But I’m not afraid. I’mturned on.

Something snaps to my left—sharp, deliberate—and I drop to my knees on instinct, rolling into the underbrush. A body crashes through the space I just vacated. Bodhi.

Too slow this time.

“Clever girl,” he pants, spinning mid-sprint.

I snarl and take off again, darting deeper into the woods. I zigzag, change elevation, sprint hard for a wide ridge I spot ahead. It’ll give me height. Line of sight. Control.

A flash of movement to my right.

Too fast. Too smooth.

Matteo.

Of course it’s fucking Matteo.

I curse under my breath and cut hard left, bounding over a fallen log and skidding down a shallow ravine. My thighs burn from the angle. My lungs scream. But I don’t stop. I can’t.

Bodhi explodes out of the brush ahead of me with a grin like the devil and lunges. I duck just in time, feel the brush of his fingers in my hair, and twist under his arm. I pull out the knife just in case.

“Keep running, princess!” he calls out, breathless and gleeful. “I’m getting hard just watching you.”

“Too slow,” I growl, dodging left, ducking under another branch. I tighten my grip on the knife hilt.

I push harder, slicing through the trees with sharp, controlled bursts of speed. I don’t waste time looking back. Iknowthey’re there. Ifeelthem.

I can do this.

The path narrows. I leap over a small stream, half-slip on a slick rock, recover just in time to avoid eating dirt. My pulse thrums in my throat. Sweat slicks my spine.

I spot the glint of metal through the trees—maybe a fence post, maybe the gate.

It’s close. So close.

A branch snaps to my right.

I spin mid-stride, knife raised—but there's no one there.

Then something slams into me from the side.

Matteo.

We hit the ground rolling hard, a mess of limbs and dirt and breathless curses. My elbow drives into his ribs, the knife flashing upward, but he catches my wrist in one practiced move and pins it to the ground as we come to a stop.

He doesn't speak at first. Just stares at me, eyes glittering, unreadable.

Then his hand finds the chain at my throat—the one I’d basically forgotten about until now—and he yanks.

The chain tightens like a choker, a noose, cutting off my breath with a sharp, strangled sound. My body jerks in his hold, eyes wide, lungs screaming.

His voice is low, rasping, lethal. "You really think I’ve shown you everything I am?"

I tense beneath him, suddenly and terribly aware that this isn’t the same Matteo I trained with. This is the one who’s always been lurking beneath the surface. The predator beneath the polish. And I’ve underestimated him.

He loosens the chain just enough to keep me from blacking out.

He leans down, breath hot against my jaw.