Page 29 of Risky Passion

Christ, we’re in the middle of their hunting ground.

Unbuckling my holster, I set my Glock onto a dry mangrove branch with a twisted root that formed a natural perch.

I glanced down at Onyx. “Stay. I mean it.”

She whined and her ears flattened as she took a tentative step forward. Dammit. One of her favorite playtimes was splashing in the ocean, but this was nothing like her beloved sandy beach with crashing waves. I straightened, locking eyes with her.

“No!” My voice was sharp. “You’ll be dinner in seconds.”

Her eyes glistened with defiance. She was still young, still rebellious at times, and I didn’t have room for disobedience. Not here.

“Stay,” I commanded again, pointing firmly at the gnarled root. Her tail drooped, and she reluctantly backed up a step.

The mud squelched between my toes as I stepped into the dark water, the warm muck sucking at my feet like it wanted to pull me under. Waist-deep and wading through the tangled mangroves, I glanced back over my shoulder one last time, raising a finger at Onyx. “Stay,\.”

A scream, raw and terrified, sliced through the salt-thick air like a blade. The sound ripped at my chest.

Tory.

Onyx exploded into furious barking, her body stiffening as she spun toward the noise, hackles spiked. Her bark, sharp and guttural, reverberated off the mangroves like cannon fire.

“Quiet!” I hissed at Onyx, and I dragged myself through the muck, trying to reach her as fast as I could.

Gunfire cracked in the distance in sharp, staccato bursts. Three shots. Then two more. The echoes collided with the scream, which rose again, raw and relentless, shredding the humid air.

Onyx’s barks grew louder, ricocheting through the mangroves like a war drum.

“Onyx!” I dropped to one knee and grabbed her collar, yanking her muzzle toward me. “Lock it down. Now.” My voice was low but razor-edged, barely masking the panic building in my chest.

Her barking faltered into a whimper, but her entire body trembled beneath my grip, muscles taut with primal energy as she vibrated with the instinct to protect.

“Quiet,” I commanded again, locking eyes with her.

Onyx held my gaze with wide-eyed defiance and distress, but after a tense beat, her ears flattened, and her head dipped.

“Good girl,” I whispered, brushing a hand over her head. I clicked my fingers sharply. “Heel.”

I snatched my Glock from my holster and with no time for my boots, I scrambled barefoot through the mangroves. The twisted roots clawed at my feet and the muck sucked at my flesh, making every step a fucking battle.

Onyx stayed with me, her snarl was low and feral, rumbling with barely contained tension. Without her lead, this was going to be a huge test of her obedience. I prayed her training would hold and that she remembered every damn command I'd drilled into her head.

The screams grew sharper, closer, ripping through the wild vegetation like a chainsaw. Another burst of gunfire rang out; wild and erratic.

“Tory!” Her name burned in my throat, and my chest tightened as I pushed harder, trying to make my feet move faster.

The screams cut off, swallowed by a silence more terrifying than the chaos before.

Fuck! Tory!

Please! Please be alive.

CHAPTER 10

Tory

As the hand-sizedtarantula crept slowly up my shoulder, its eight hairy legs brushed far too close to my throat. I pressed my back harder against the rough tree bark, barely daring to breathe. Just beyond my hiding spot, four armed men stalked silently through the dense undergrowth. My pulse hammered as my gaze flicked between the spider inches from my neck and the killers hunting me.

A faint disturbance moved across the murky surface of the swamp. My breath caught as the ripples grew into a shadow darker than the water itself, gliding silently toward the armed men.

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