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Part of me wants to drag her off this plane right now, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her home where I can lock her away until she understands exactly how things are going to be from now on.

What the hell was she thinking, running from me?

After everything I told her last night, after I made it crystal clear how much danger she’s in just by being seen with me, she still tried to disappear again.

I had been in the middle of a meeting when Dmitri, one of the men I’d assigned to watch her, called to tell me she’d tricked them. She told them she forgot something upstairs, then bolted. They lost her in the hotel lobby.

Luckily for me, I’m not stupid.

Last night, while she slept, I placed a tracker on her phone. Overboard? Maybe to her.

But in my world, there’s no such thing as overboard when it comes to protecting what’s mine.

I opened the app and watched her little dot move straight toward the airport. My sweet little liar had looked me in the face this morning, promised she was just going to get her things from the hotel and come right back… and instead she ran.

I should have seen this coming.

Rosie opens her mouth, lips trembling. “How did you—”

“How did I find you?” I finish for her, voice low and calm, even though fury is still simmering under my skin.

“I told you last night, Rosie. Now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting you go. And I meant every word.”

She stares at me, chest rising and falling too fast.

I take one slow step closer, lowering my voice so only Rosie can hear.

“You can try to run as many times as you want, plamya. But I will always find you. Always.”

I glance at the nervous flight attendant hovering nearby, then back at Rosie.

“Now get up. We’re going back home.”

Rosie’s eyes flash with defiance. “No. My home is in New Jersey.”

Before I can respond, a small voice pulls my attention away from her face.

“Mommy, who is this man?”

I look away from Rosie to notice a little girl, no older than four, sitting between Rosie and the male passenger by the window. She’s looking up at Rosie, clutching a tablet in her lap.

Did I hear that right? Mommy?

Rosie turns quickly to the child, her voice soft but strained. “Sweetheart, go back to watching your cartoons on the tablet while Mummy talks to her… friend.”

The little girl hesitates, then turns her gaze from Rosie to me.

And the world stops. My mismatched eyes are staring up at me from a tiny face framed by soft dark curls.

I look from the little girl to Rosie. She’s gone pale as a sheet, her face drained of all color, eyes wide with something that looks dangerously close to panic.

What the hell is going on? This can’t be what I’m thinking… right?

Slowly, I turn back to the little girl.

“Hello,” I say, my voice coming out quieter than I expect.

“Hi,” she answers, tilting her head with innocent curiosity.