You always asked yourself — how does Zhenya always know where you are? You knew he was powerful, but it’s not like he had cameras in every corner of the city.

What you didn’t know was that every piece of jewelry he’d ever given you carried a secret — a hidden tracking chip. Not that he’d ever admit it.

After all, this marriage wasn’t born from love. It was forced — shaped by his obsession with you.

Now, you were in another country. You hadn’t told Zhenya. Of course not. You needed to run. To breathe.

But he still found you.

When he did, he touched you gently — too gently — the kind of touch that warned of the storm waiting once you were back in Russia.

He scoffed when you asked how he found you, his hand gripping your face so tightly you felt it in your bones. “Love, I’ve got eyes everywhere,” he whispered, a cold smile curving his lips. “I’m Pskih goddamn Bogdanov.” He brushed your cheek almost tenderly before turning away.

Then, he held out his hand. “Come on,” he said with a low laugh. “Let’s go home. Can’t believe you really thought you could run.” His grip when he pulled you in was merciless — strong enough to break, soft enough to remind you he never would.

Because when Zhenya loves someone, he doesn’t let them go. Ever.