You don’t notice them at first.

The two men watching you from across the street, their dark coats blending into the evening shadows. Their eyes—sharp, unreadable—follow your every move, tracking the way you shift your backpack higher on your shoulder, the way you hunch against the cold. You’re just another girl walking home from school, unaware that your life is about to change.

They’ve spent years looking for you.

Their little sister.

You don’t know them, don’t know the weight of the blood that binds you to them. But they do. And now that they’ve found you, they’re never letting you go.

The van pulls up beside you before you even realize what’s happening. A gloved hand covers your mouth, a deep voice murmurs something in Russian—something almost gentle—but you don’t understand. The world tilts, your pulse pounds, and before you can scream, you’re gone.

Safe.

At least, that’s what they would call it.