Page 67 of Anton

I peeked through the cracked door and spotted him, his movements slow, careful.Leave this one to me,I texted back.

The barrel of a rifle appeared first, poking cautiously through the doorway. The door creaked open wider, inch by inch, until he stepped inside. I waited, muscles coiled, until he was just past me. In one fluid motion, my arm locked around his throat, and the blade sliced clean through. He dropped instantly, a dull thud as his body hit the floor.

No hesitation. No remorse. As Ash had said, I’d been taught to kill first, ask questions later. The only reason Ash survived was because I wasn’t sure if he was friend or foe. This time, there was no doubt.

The air outside fractured with shouts and gunfire, a cacophony that signalled the hunt was escalating. Dragging the body out of the way, I pressed myself against the wall, knife ready, and waited.

The stable door burst open and two hunters stumbled inside, their faces taut with panic. One clutched a shotgun, eyes darting wildly, while the other leaned against the doorframe, breathless and rattled.

Before either could get their bearings, Marcie struck. A hay bale crashed down from above, slamming into the shotgun-wielder and driving him to his knees. His startled grunt was the only sound he managed before I was on him. The blade flashed in my hand, a clean, swift strike that left him lifeless on the ground.

The second hunter barely had time to react. His roar of rage turned into a bellow as he charged, slamming me against the stable wall with brute force. Pain shot through my ribs as his fist connected with my gut, and a second blow landed squarely on my jaw. My vision swam, but I held my ground, grappling with him for control.

In the struggle, my hand found the grip of my gun. Twisting free of his grasp, I brought the barrel up and fired. The sharp crack of the shot echoed in the confined space, and his body dropped in a lifeless heap.

Breathing hard, I scanned the stable, listening for any movement outside. Above, Marcie peered down from the loft, her face pale but resolute.

“Good work, honey,” I said, reloading my gun. “But stay put. This isn’t over yet.”

Miki shouted from outside and I went to meet him. Together, we got rid of all the bodies, not wanting to alert the psycho bitch and her men when they arrived. It took them another ten minutes before they finally appeared.

Marcie was beside me in the workshop ready for the next part of our plan, her face set in determination, but I could see the strain in her eyes. She had her own stake in this fight, but I wished she didn’t have to be here.

Anger surged through me when I looked at the woman who had caused all of our problems. Traynor stood outside one of the jeeps, directing her men to surround the stable, just as we’d suspected she would.

The guys picked off the first few hunters as they crept into the area, silent shadows against the backdrop of the old wooden structure. The sound of bodies hitting the ground was muffled by the crackling of radio static.

Everything was going according to plan, and that had me worried. As I fought with another hunter, my concern ratcheted up when I realised I could no longer see Marcie.

Where was she?

A scream rent the air, sharp and gut-wrenching, and I turned to see Marcie in the arms of a hunter, his blade pressed to her throat. My blood ran cold at the sight.

“Got the bitch, boss,” the guy said into his radio, and all noise from outside ceased.

“Everyone surrender, or Marcie’s throat gets slit. You know I’m not bluffing,” Elizabeth Traynor called, her voice sharp and commanding, dripping with malicious glee.

Shit. All sounds of gunfire ceased.

The guy I was fighting sneered as I raised my hands, signalling surrender. He scooped his gun off the ground where it had fallen and trained it on me.

Moments later, the psycho herself strode into the stable, her cold smile as venomous as her reputation. Miki and Ash followed, their hands tied behind their backs, forced to their knees by Traynor’s men. My own hands were quickly restrained.

No sign of Trigger. Good. At least one of our guys was still out there, ready to help when needed.

My gaze shot to Marcie as she whimpered, her face contorted in revulsion while the brute holding her let his free hand roam her body.

“Hey, get your filthy hands off her!” I snarled, struggling to stand.

The bastard behind me rammed the butt of his shotgun into the back of my leg, forcing it to buckle. Another thug moved in, pressing the barrel of a handgun against my head.

“Now, now, Pete, you’ll get your turn to play later. For now, it’s my turn to have fun,” Traynor said with a smirk, her tone mocking and laced with dark promise.

“Yes, boss,” the brute replied, his filthy paw finally stopping its revolting journey over Marcie.

I locked eyes with Miki, a silent message passing between us. They’d surrendered for Marcie’s sake, but the moment an opportunity presented itself, we’d turn the tables again. And that bastard holding her? He was mine.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise? And a delightful one at that,” Elizabeth sneered, her lips curling in smug satisfaction. “Not only do I get to exact revenge on Anton and Marcie, but Ash and Miki Rominov, too. Quite the unexpected bonus.”

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