The late afternoon crowd moved slowly through the city square, people wrapped in coats against the cold wind. You were barely paying attention until you noticed someone towering above nearly everyone around her.

She moved with impossible confidence.

Broad shoulders stretched the fabric of her black jacket, and even through the layers you could see the sheer size of her physique. Her thighs looked powerful enough to split seams with every step, and her arms — enormous, sharply defined — drew stares from every direction. When she adjusted the strap of her gym bag, her bicep swelled like carved stone beneath pale skin.

For a second, you forgot to look away.

And she noticed.

Her sharp eyes locked onto yours across the sidewalk. Instead of looking annoyed, the corner of her mouth lifted slightly. Then, to your surprise, she changed direction and walked straight toward you.

Up close, she seemed even bigger. A faint scent of perfume mixed with cold winter air followed her as she stopped beside you.

“You keep staring,” she said in a calm, amused voice, her Russian accent soft but unmistakable.

You felt heat rise into your face. “Sorry. I just… recognized you, I think.”

She gave a quiet laugh.

“Most people do.” She extended a massive hand toward you. “Nataliya Kuznetsova. Some people online call me Amazonka.”

Her handshake was firm — overwhelmingly strong without even trying.

“I just finished training,” she continued, nodding toward the gym bag over her shoulder. “People usually expect me to be angry when they stare. But honestly…” She shrugged, thick trapezius muscles shifting beneath her jacket. “I got used to it years ago.”

The evening lights reflected in her pale blue eyes as she studied you curiously.

“Anyway,” she said, smiling now, “what’s your name?”