Page 69 of Anton

“You bloody bitch! I’ll kill you for this!” Anton roared, his voice rough with fury. The sound sliced through me as sharply as any blade, and I turned toward him. Seeing him brought to his knees because of my mistake shattered something inside me.

“Ha!” Elizabeth’s mocking laugh filled the room. “You’re in no position to make threats, Mr DuPont. Ex-special forces or not, your skills might have helped you before, taking down a few hunters at a time. But this? You’re facing the might of my entire team. You’ve lost.”

Her words rattled through me like gunfire, leaving me trembling.

I was going to lose him—the man I loved—and it was all my fault.

No. I couldn’t let it end this way. I couldn’t let Elizabeth win, couldn’t let Rupert or his sick games destroy everything we’d fought so hard for. I had to fight. For Anton. For us. For the chance to make it out of this alive.

Elizabeth’s sharp voice sliced through my racing thoughts. “Well, time is pressing, and I’ve got other revenge plots to hatch,” she said, her voice chillingly casual, as if this were just another day for her. “This one needs to end, and there’s no time like the present. Miki, as pakhan, it’s only fitting that you get a bullet to the brain first. Then we’ll blow Ash’s head off. But you, Anton? We’ll take our time with you. It’s only fair that Marcie’s partner stays with her right to the bitter end. So, get comfortable, Mr DuPont, and enjoy the show.”

My heart stuttered in my chest, the icy grip of fear tightening around my ribs. The guys were going to die and then she was going to make Anton watch as her men brutalised me. A sob escaped. I needed to do something, but what?

Elizabeth nodded at her guard and he raised his weapon, aiming it at Miki’s head.

“No,” I gasped, just as the sharp, clean crack of a gunshot split the air.

But it wasn’t Miki who was hit. The guard’s head snapped back, a spray of blood staining the floor as he crumpled silently. A second shot rang out, and I turned my head just in time to see the man behind Ash collapse, his weapon slipping from his hands as his body fell in a disjointed heap.

Everything happened fast after that. Miki surged to his feet, his movements startlingly quick. Somehow, he’d cut through his bindings and freed Ash. Now armed with a rifle, Miki became a lethal force, cutting down the remaining men with precision and efficiency.

I barely registered the chaos. Rupert snarled in frustration, his grip tightening as he dragged me toward the door. The fightraged around us, but I had no time to focus on it—I was too intent on escaping the madman before it was too late.

“You’ll never escape me, Marcie,” he hissed, his voice a chilling mix of rage and glee. “I’m going to do everything I’ve dreamed of, and I’ll enjoy every second. You won’t—but I’ll make sure it lasts.”

His hand loosened on my neck as he fumbled with the door. Seizing my chance, I didn’t hesitate. I swung my elbow up, driving it into his gut. He grunted, his grip slackening further, giving me just enough room to twist around.

Grabbing the back of his neck, I yanked his head down and brought my knee up in a single, fluid motion. His nose shattered with a sickening crunch, blood spurting from the impact. Derrick’s self-defence classes had drilled that move into me, and I delivered it with every ounce of strength I could muster.

“Ugh! You’ll pay for that, you little bitch,” Rupert spat, his hand flying to staunch the stream of blood from his nose.

I turned to run, but he lunged at me, his arms snaking around my waist. We collided with the wall, the impact knocking the breath from me. He spun me around, his hands gripping my shoulders as he shook me violently. “Keep it up, Marcie. Fight me. You’re only making this more fun,” he sneered, leaning in close, his bloodied lips aiming for mine.

Terror gripped me, sharp and paralysing, but anger flared in its wake—a deep, primal rage. Adrenaline coursed through me, giving me the strength to act. I bit down hard on his lip, tasting copper as he howled and yanked his head back. Without hesitating, I drove the heel of my hand into his already broken nose.

He screamed, rearing back in pain, giving me just enough space to unleash a flurry of punches. My fists flew, landing hit after hit, forcing him to stumble backward. That’s when I saw it—my trusty pitchfork lying discarded on the ground.

I dived for it, gripping the handle tightly as I turned to face him, weapon raised. Rupert froze, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and fury.

“You’ll regret this,” he snarled, his voice ragged. “You might have escaped me this time, Marcie, but I’ll always be watching, waiting. One day, I’ll come for you again, and then you’ll be mine.” His words dripped with venom as he backed toward the door.

But the sight of him retreating only fuelled my fury. I couldn’t let him get away—not after everything he’d done.

“No!” I screamed, sprinting after Rupert.

He spun around, raising his arms to fend me off, but I was faster. Gripping the pitchfork tightly, I lunged forward, driving it into his throat with all the force I could muster. The impact sent a sickening jolt up my arms, pinning him to the wall as his eyes widened in shock.

My breathing came in frantic, ragged bursts as I watched the light fade from his gaze, his body spasming as he gurgled his final breath. Blood pooled around the tines of the fork, dripping to the floor in thick, crimson streaks.

Shock rolled over me like a tidal wave, and my legs buckled beneath me. I swayed, my vision blurring, but before I could collapse, Anton was there, his strong arms pulling me close. He held me tightly, his presence grounding me against the storm of emotions threatening to consume me.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice steady and calm as his fingers threaded through my hair. “It’s over, Marcie. You did what you had to.”

Burying my face in his chest, I clung to him, my fists clutching his shirt as sobs wracked my body. The adrenaline ebbed, leaving only the stark shock of what I’d done.

“I killed him,” I whispered, my voice trembling and distant, as though it didn’t belong to me.

Anton cupped the back of my head, his touch warm and steady. “You protected yourself,” he said firmly. “You’re alive. That’s what matters.”

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