Page 12 of Hunted By the Mountain Man
"You're thinking too loud," Anna murmurs against my throat, not opening her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." The lie comes automatically, but she sees right through it.
"Cole." She lifts her head to meet my gaze. "Talk to me."
I study her face in the soft glow from the equipment displays—beautiful, intelligent, stronger than she knows. And completely out of my league once she's back in civilization.
"They can't stay out there forever," I say finally. "Costa's men. They're not equipped for extended mountain operations in winter."
"That's good, right?"
"For you, yeah. Once they're gone, you'll be safe. Free to go back to your life."
Something shifts in Anna's expression. "My life?"
"Witness protection will relocate you again. New identity, new city. You'll testify against Costa and then disappear into some suburban paradise where no one will ever find you." The words taste like ashes. "It's what you wanted—safety, justice, a chance to start over."
Anna sits up, pulling the blanket around herself as she stares at me. "Is that what you think I want?"
"It's what you should want. It's the smart choice."
"The smart choice." Her voice is carefully neutral. "And what about us?"
There it is—the question I've been dreading. I meet her eyes directly, knowing I owe her honesty even if it kills me.
"There is no us, Anna. Not in the real world." Each word feels like ripping out a piece of my soul. "You're a forensic accountant from Toronto with a life to get back to. I'm a burned-out soldier hiding in the mountains because I can't function in normal society anymore."
"You don't get to decide that for me."
"I'm being realistic—"
"You're being a coward." The words hit like a physical blow. Anna's eyes flash with anger and hurt. "You're so terrified of being abandoned again that you're abandoning me first."
"That's not—"
"It is exactly that." She climbs off the cot, wrapping the blanket around herself like armor. "You think because your ex-wife couldn't handle your PTSD, I'll run too. You think I'll choose some sterile safe house over building a life with you."
My throat closes. She's right, and we both know it.
"Anna..." I start, but alarms interrupt as movement appears on the tactical display.
"Helicopters," I report, switching to professional mode because it's easier than facing her accusations. "Three RCMP birds, coming in fast from the southeast."
Anna moves to the display, studying the approaching aircraft. "How did they find us?"
"I activated a distress beacon an hour ago." At her surprised look, I explain, "Silent signal, emergency frequency. Takes time for them to triangulate and respond."
"You called for rescue?"
"I called for backup." I'm already moving to the communication array. "Time to end this properly."
I switch to RCMP tactical frequencies, my military training taking over as I coordinate with the incoming helicopters. Within minutes, I'm providing real-time intelligence on Costa's men—positions, weapons, movement patterns.
"This is RCMP tactical to emergency beacon source," the lead pilot's voice crackles through the speakers. "We have visual on twelve hostiles. Requesting immediate guidance on terrain hazards."
"RCMP tactical, this is Cole Manning, former U.S. Special Forces," I respond, falling easily into operational language. "I activated the distress beacon. Hostiles are in steep terrain, limited escape routes. Recommend approach from vector two-seven-zero, use ridge line for cover."
Anna watches me work, and I can see the realization in her eyes—that I'm not just some broken hermit hiding from theworld. I'm a professional who chose isolation, not someone who couldn't function anywhere else.
