Page 27 of Anton

I nodded, my chest tight with fear and adrenaline, and we took off again. My new footwear wasn’t perfect, but I could run now—though barely. Each step was rough and uneven, sending shocks through my already aching legs, but I pushed through, focused on one thing: getting as far away from them as possible.

The ground beneath us was dry and cracked from the unforgiving sun, the landscape barren except for a few clusters of scrubby bushes and scattered rocks. There were no trees for cover, no place to hide. And with every second that passed, our head start advantage was slipping through our fingers like sand.

Thank God Anton was here. My Mr Sexy Soldier. If there was anyone I wanted with me during this nightmare, it was him. Not just for the obvious advantage his skillset provided, but because his mere presence anchored me. The calm, determined gaze he wore cut through the chaos, steadying my nerves when panic threatened to take over.

His grip on my hand was firm, pulling me forward as we sprinted across the open land. My lungs burned with every breath, my legs screaming in protest, but I refused to stop.

The landscape offered no reprieve, no hope of cover. Just endless stretches of barren earth, rolling hills, and scattered rocks. We were exposed. Vulnerable.

“Where the hell are we?” I gasped between pants.

“It’s Europe,” he said, his voice strained with effort as he pushed us onward, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Spain, most likely. The terrain, the heat… it fits.”

Europe. Spain. His words barely registered, but the thought of being so far from home made my chest tighten. We were miles from help—cut off from anyone who could save us.

“I can’t keep this pace up much longer,” I rasped, my throat raw and dry from the relentless heat and effort.

“I know.” He slowed, pulling me to a stop, and reached into the back pocket of his jeans. Producing the bottle of water the bitch had thrown at him, he held it out to me. “Here, take a sip. Not too much—we need to conserve it until we find more.”

Grabbing the bottle with shaking hands, I gulped down a mouthful. The water was warm, borderline hot, but it felt like liquid gold against my parched throat. When he pulled the bottle away, I nearly whimpered, the ache for more almost unbearable. But Anton was right, we needed to ration it.

He took a quick sip himself before capping the bottle and tucking it away. His gaze shifted behind us, scanning the expanse of terrain we’d covered. I didn’t dare look. If they were coming for us already, I didn’t want to know. Ignorance was bliss, at least for now.

“Okay, let’s go. We can slow down a bit, but we need to keep moving.”

“Yes, sir,” I quipped, giving him a mock salute, hoping my sass would lighten the mood.

It worked. A smirk tugged at his lips, and I caught a glimmer in his eye—something teasing, something wicked. That look alone stirred ideas I had no business entertaining in the middle of this nightmare.

But the moment was fleeting. My mood dipped sharply with the reminder that this wasn’t a game.

“We need to go again, honey,” Anton said. Tears pricked at my eyes, but thankfully he didn’t notice. Instead, he grabbed my hand, and we were on the move again.

God, why was running so bloody hard? If I survived this, I swore I’d never skip cardio day again. Hell, I’d train for a marathon. Anything to avoid feeling this hopelessly out of shape ever again.

Time blurred into a haze of pain and exhaustion. My legs trembled with every step, my muscles screaming for rest, but I pushed on. They had to have started the hunt by now. The thought of being caught—of what they would do—kept me moving.

Finally, the landscape began to change. The flat, open ground gave way to rocky slopes, the sun casting long shadows across the dry terrain. I stumbled again, my footing slipping on the loose stones, but Anton steadied me with ease.

The silence around us was oppressive, broken only by the crunch of rocks beneath our feet and the sound of my laboured breathing. Each step felt heavier than the last, my legs trembling as fatigue gnawed at my resolve.

I glanced at Anton, a slight sheen of sweat coating his skin, that unruly flop of hair curling on his forehead. Despite the unyielding heat and frantic pace and the bruising on his face, he looked like an action figure—thick, bulging muscles, a buff body that could probably take on anything. That gave me hope—if anyone could get us through this, it was Anton.

Lord, he was gorgeous. How the hell could he still look so good when I was a hot mess—drenched in sweat, gasping for air, with a wheeze that sounded like I was about to cough up a lung? Sexy, real sexy, Marcie. I snorted and rolled my eyes at the thought. This was hardly the time to worry about being sexy. Besides, Anton had already seen me at my worst. It was unlikely I could put him off any more than I already had.

I guessed I should be grateful for my unappealing appearance. Considering what I was facing, the less sexy I looked, the better. Maybe, just maybe, by the time these ‘hunters’ caught up to us, I’d be so gross they’d go straight for the kill and forget about their lewd suggestions.

We reached the crest of a small hill, the rocky slope beneath us seeming unstable, and Anton paused for a moment, scanning the landscape below. His sharp eyes narrowed as he took in the view, and then he pointed.

“There,” he said, his voice low, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “There’s a stream. We follow it. Might lead us to safety, or at least some cover.”

I followed his gaze, my breath catching in my throat as I spotted the thin line of water cutting through the dusty ground below. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

My legs screamed in protest as we started down the hill, each step a battle against the loose stones that threatened to send me tumbling. The strain in my muscles was almost unbearable, but I pushed forward, the thought of that stream spurring me on. Anton’s grip on my hand kept me anchored, pulling me through the struggle, reminding me that I couldn’t afford to collapse now.

“Fully submerge yourself. We’ll stay here for a few minutes. The water will help cool the sunburn,” Anton told me.

“We splashed into the water, the coolness shocking against my overheated skin. Anton crouched down, cupping his hands todrink, but I barely noticed, focused on my own parched throat as I gulped desperately from the stream.

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