The Prey

“Master Morozov is waiting for you.”

“Thank you.”

I nodded at the man as he side-stepped and opened the door. Ivan was beside me, stepping inside the room with me on his back. My hands were clamped with sweat, and my throat felt dry as sand. I shouldn’t be here, but once again, I found myself in a place where I didn’t belong.

They say fate has a cruel sense of humor—what you run from often has a way of chasing you down. My father always said, the wolves will find you if you carry the scent of fear.

Right now, I reeked of it. But I had...