Page 28 of Anton

“Feeling better?” Anton asked, the concern in his voice evident.

“How could I not? Sun, sweat, and sheer terror—plus a handsome man to enjoy it all with. What’s not to love?” I said with a slight chuckle, once again hoping to lighten the mood and stop myself from giving in to the worry creeping in on me.

A smile tugged at Anton’s lips, and my gaze locked on them. How I wanted to kiss them—to feel the warmth of him pressed against me, to forget this hell for just a moment.

Anton cleared his throat. “We need to go again, Marcie,” he said, amusement lacing his voice.

My cheeks heated, and I blinked rapidly at the sound of his voice, nodding as I quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t guessed what I was thinking. This was hardly the time or place to be fantasising about such things.

Forcing my thoughts away from the tempting idea of how those lips might feel against mine and back to the present issue, I nodded, though doubt gnawed at me. My body was exhausted, every step an effort. The dry heat of the sun was sapping what little energy I had left. But there was no other option. We had to keep going.

Anton had his hand up, shading his eyes as he scanned the area around us.

“Where to?”

He motioned to a cluster of hills about a mile off to the right, the tallest of which was crested by a forest-like area. “We need to get up there. It’ll be harder for them to track us once we’re hidden amongst the trees.”

“Great,” I said, relief evident in my voice. The thought of somewhere to hide that might also get us out of this searing heat felt like a lifeline, however small.

Anton took my hand again, pulling me forward. We ran along the stream’s edge, our feet splashing through the shallow water, the rocky ground uneven beneath us. My lungs burned with each breath, but I kept pushing, kept running. Each step was a battle, every splash a reminder that no matter how far we’d already run, the chase was barely underway, the danger only just beginning—and the worst was yet to come.

CHAPTER 12

ANTON

THE HUNT, DAY 1 – LATE AFTERNOON – RUNNING FOR OUR LIVES

Panting hard, I stared at the steep incline ahead, my chest tightening with more than just exhaustion. The slope offered plenty of places to grab on to, which was something, but it didn’t change the fact that this climb was going to be brutal. The bruises on my face and body throbbed. My legs already ached from the relentless pace, my calves tightening in silent protest at what lay ahead.

I glanced at Marcie, watching as she fought to hold herself together. She’d tried to keep things light earlier, cracking jokes to mask the tension, but now her face gave her away. Her lips pressed into a tight line, her jaw clenched as though she were biting back a curse. She glared at the slope like it was a mortal enemy, as if the sheer force of will and the frustration blazing in those bright blue eyes alone could conquer it.

Exhaustion was etched in every line of her body—the slump of her shoulders, the unsteady rise and fall of her chest, the subtle tremor in her legs. She wasn’t going to last long before she collapsed.

A wave of deep-rooted, and very familiar, guilt churned in my gut. I hated that she was in this position, hated even more that I hadn’t done enough to keep her safe.

My hands flexed into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. Regret coiled tight in my chest, sharp and unyielding, a constant reminder of how often I’d fallen short. The mistakes I had no way of undoing loomed like a shadow I couldn’t escape. Why couldn’t I protect the women I cared about?

Memories clawed at me, unrelenting. The faces of those I couldn’t save rose like ghosts, their loss a weight that threatened to drag me down into the pit of despair I was far too familiar with. I rolled my shoulders back, forcing my stiff muscles to loosen, and exhaled slowly through my nose. I couldn’t afford to get lost in the past now. Not with Marcie relying on me.

I glanced at her again. I didn’t know what I would do if anything happened to her, but I wasn’t willing to find out. God, I couldn’t fail her. Not Marcie. The thought alone made my chest tighten like a vice. No matter what it took, I would keep her safe and be the strength she needed to get through this nightmare.

Lifting her face, I kept my voice steady, willing her to draw strength from me. “You can do this, Marcie.” I leaned in slightly, my gaze intense. “I believe in you.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips parting as though to protest before she thought better of it. Instead, she nodded, her jaw set with renewed determination as she turned away and took a shaky step forward.

Pride lit me from inside as I watched. Her limp was subtle but constant, a reminder of those ridiculous shoes. Snapping the heels off had helped, but even without them, the boots were a torture device. I couldn’t imagine what her feet must feel like, but not once had she uttered a word of complaint.

The sheer willpower it took for her to keep going left me awestruck. Marcie had wormed her way into my life with her sass and that brilliant smile, but the fire beneath the surface—the quiet strength she never flaunted—was what kept me tethered now.

My gaze lingered as she moved ahead of me, taking in her slim legs, bronze-toned and dusted with dirt, muscles taut as she climbed. Her tight bum, perfectly framed by that little black dress, moved with just enough sway to snag my attention. Her hair, wild and curling, framed her like a halo she’d never claim.

Desire spread through me, my cock thickening at the vivid images flashing in my mind before I could stop them. My hands sliding into that dark hair, gripping tight. Bending her over, lifting that dress, and?—

Marcie glanced back suddenly, one brow arched and the hint of a smirk on her lips.

Shit. Busted.

“Ready?” she asked, her tone light, teasing, as though she knew exactly what had been on my mind.

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