Page 70 of Anton

For a moment, we stayed like that, his arms wrapped tightly around me, a reassuring presence that calmed my trembling frame. Gradually, my breathing evened out. I looked up at him, marvelling that we’d both survived.

Then a guttural scream ripped through the air—Elizabeth’s voice, shrill and desperate as she bolted for the door.

Anton moved with practiced precision, lifting a gun and firing a single, clean shot. The sound echoed through the space, and Elizabeth crumpled to the ground, her threat extinguished.

The staccato of more shots followed as our men finished the remaining guards. Then, silence. The room was eerily still, broken only by the laboured breathing of those who had fought and survived.

My gaze swept the room until it landed on Trigger, his hulking form standing amidst the carnage, his expression grim but resolute. Relief washed over me, and for the first time, I allowed myself to believe—we’d made it.

Miki stepped closer, his gaze flicking from Rupert’s lifeless body to me. His expression was calm, almost gentle, as he spoke. “You did good, Marcie. You didn’t have a choice, and you did what had to be done. He’d never have left you alone.”

His words carried a measure of truth I couldn’t deny. Slowly, I let out a shaky breath, my lips curving into a tentative smile. Miki was right. Rupert had stolen my peace for far too long. Ending his life meant reclaiming mine. I wouldn’t regret it—not now, not ever. Maybe I’d wish things hadn’t come to this, but I’d never look back and wish I hadn’t acted.

“It’s over, honey,” Anton murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

Leaning against his chest, I closed my eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing anchor me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to feel relief. We’d survived. Somehow, we’d made it through.

“Anton…” My voice was barely a whisper, breaking the silence as I struggled to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

“I’m here, Marcie,” he said softly, his voice steady and certain. “I’ll always be here.”

I tilted my head up to meet his gaze, my hand brushing his cheek with hesitant reverence. He had to know—had to understand what had shifted inside me.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” I whispered, my voice trembling as the tears I’d held back began to rise. “When you surrendered to them… I realised something. I can’t lose you. Not ever. I won’t. I…” My breath caught, a single tear sliding down my cheek. “I love you.”

The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, but they carried no fear. No regret. Just truth.

For a moment, Anton didn’t speak. His hand rose to cup my face, his touch warm and steady. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine as his eyes softened, brimming with an emotion that mirrored my own.

“I love you too,” he murmured, his voice rough with vulnerability. “I think I always have. I was just too scared to admit it.”

Despite the tears streaking my face, I couldn’t help but smile. “You? Scared?”

A low, quiet laugh rumbled in his chest, and he smiled back at me. “You terrify me, Marcie,” he said, his grin warm and full of affection. “But in the best way. The things you make me feel… I’ve never felt that for anyone before.”

Silent tears traced paths down my cheeks, but before they could fall, Anton’s thumb brushed them away with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

I kissed him then, a kiss that began slow and gentle but quickly grew desperate—a release of everything we’d been holding back. It was a kiss that spoke of relief, of love, of everything we had survived.

Miki cleared his throat. “Marko confirmed the hacienda’s been dealt with. They’re on their way back to the villa. The clean-up crew is on their way here now, too. Let’s get out of here.”

“Clean-up crew?” I whispered to Anton, still trying to process everything that had happened.

“Miki’s uncle Maxim arranged it through one of the Spanish gangs he’s had dealings with. They’ll clear up the mess, get rid of the bodies,” Anton explained quietly as we walked back to the jeeps, our steps hurried yet heavy with the weight of everything that had just unfolded. Was it only a few days ago that this nightmare began? It felt like a lifetime.

As we settled into the backseat again, I let out a deep, relieved sigh. It really was over. We were free—not just from the immediate danger, but from the shadows of the past. Finally, we could breathe.

Free to build something real. Something lasting. And most of all, free to explore the love we had both finally admitted.

We returned to the villa, the silence between us settling into something almost peaceful. Anton took my hand, his touch warm but gentle, as if handling something precious, leading me back to our room.

“Come on,” he murmured softly, his voice a comforting rumble, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The steam from the shower wrapped around us like a welcome embrace after everything that had happened. I stepped under the water first, closing my eyes as it poured over me, rinsing away the tension and stress from the past few hours.

My sexy soldier joined me without a word, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. His thumbs worked over the knots in my muscles with a tenderness that made my breath catch. There was no urgency in his touch, only a steady, soothing pressure. His hands drifted down my arms, coaxing the tightness out of my body, and I leaned into him, letting him take the weight from me.

Taking some shampoo, Anton lathered it through my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp with a slow, careful rhythm. My eyelids fluttered shut, and I sighed contentedly, loving the feel of his hands working through my hair.

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