Prologue

My feet bounce off the breaking concrete as I run down the dark passage, my hair whipping back and forth, obstructing my vision, but I dare not stop and flip it over my shoulder. I can feel them near, breathing down my neck, getting off, and seeing just how much longer my legs can take me. I pack the hem of my dress - the one Kristoff gifted me last night for this date. The one he'd said looked good on me this evening before I left for the restaurant's bathroom.

Before these men kidnapped me.

I'll be lying if I say I don't know where they're from. Kristoff is a powerful Mafia Don - much feared in New York and all over the world. A cruel underboss with a reputation to match that phrase. I knew what I was getting into when I let him into my heart after our initial agreement. I knew what I was getting into when instead of packing my stuff and leaving his mansion altogether, I got into a fight with my uncle when I went back to our shack to clear out what was left there.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Titania," he'd said, his cold blue eyes twinkling in fury. "You might think that I'm standing in the way of your happiness with Kristoff but I know how these things work. I'm much more experienced than you. Kristoff Stravkos will ruin you. He's like a mighty tornado, sweeping everything in its path. Don't say I didn't tell you."

"I'll be fine, papa," I'd replied lightly, strapping on the backpack that contained my leftover stuff. I leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Instead of worrying about me, pray. Pray for me."

Now, even a prayer can't save me from what's about to happen.

My knees will give way any minute, and my chest is burning. I pant heavily as I try to run faster, feeling their clutches on my dress, tugging it back.

Oh Kristoff, where are you?

Suddenly a figure emerges from the shadow up ahead, blocking me. I scream as I'm jerked back and thrown on the floor, flashes of fluorescent bulbs all over the place. Rubbing my waist that's hurting from the hard impact with the ground, I don't look up into their faces. I don't familiarise myself with my potential killers.

A cool finger reaches out under my chin, lifting it up slightly. I gasp, staring into shiny, hazel eyes - the brightest I've seen - behind dark shades. His lips are thin, the sides curling into a devious smirk as he shoves my face away and turns his back.

"Kill her."

Oh, God.