The woods swallowed us whole.

Fog clung low to the earth, winding around the trees like ghosts rising from shallow graves. My lungs burned with every breath as Dante dragged me deeper into the forest, his hand gripping mine with bruising force. Behind us, the crack of gunfire still echoed, distant but too close.

The Russians were hunting us.

“Faster,” Dante growled, glancing back over his shoulder. His shirt clung to him, damp with sweat and streaked with blood, though I didn’t know if it was his or someone else’s. His eyes burned like coals in the half-light.

I stumbled over roots, my legs trembling, but he didn’t let me...