Page 11

Callum kept a tight grip on Sloane as they darted through the compound. It wouldn’t be long before this became a straight-up manhunt for them, and he wanted to be as far away as they could when that happened.

They kept to the shadows as much as possible, but speed was more important now than stealth. Dawn would be coming in a couple of hours, and once they lost the cover of night, things would get even more difficult if they hadn’t gotten away from the Kozaks’ men.

Callum led them south—the opposite direction Bear and Theo had taken Marissa. As soon as he was able, he would call his friends and have them come get Sloane and him once they got Marissa to the drop point.

But for at least twenty-four hours, he and Sloane were on their own.

He got them past the run-down barn and into the trees. For a moment, he thought they’d made it out undetected, but then yells coming from the farm and heading in their direction proved him wrong. At least now, they had the cover of trees and wilderness around them.

He tightened his grip on Sloane’s hand, pulling her along behind him. Her small fingers trembled in his; she was already struggling.

“Stay with me,” he said, his voice low but firm. He glanced back briefly, his sharp gaze meeting hers. Her face was pale, streaked with grime, her lips pressed tightly together to keep from crying out. She nodded mutely, her eyes wide with a terror she couldn’t mask.

She’d been through hell—that much was obvious. Her dress was barely hanging on her body, and both the heels of her shoes had already broken off, which at least made for faster running. Her hair was matted, and the haunted look in her eyes told him she was reliving the nightmare she’d just left behind her.

Callum didn’t know her beyond her name, but he didn’t need to. She was his responsibility now, and he’d get her out of this alive.

If she couldn’t keep up, he’d carry her. If they were cornered, he’d fight. And if he had to, he’d die to safeguard her.

He didn’t even question this protective instinct she brought out in him. Maybe being back in the field—pushing himself so hard and coming so close to death—was causing it, but it didn’t matter. He was not letting anyone hurt this woman again.

“Where are we going?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, each word laced with exhaustion.

“Anywhere but here.” He kept his tone steady, hoping it would anchor her. “We need to put more distance between us and them.”

Behind them, faint shouts echoed through the trees. The guards were still on their trail, and they were relentless. Callum had clocked at least a dozen of them when they’d escaped the compound. Again, maybe not professionals, but there were more of them, and they were better armed.

The terrain ahead sloped upward, the forest thickening into a tangle of roots and underbrush. Callum picked the path with care, choosing routes that would slow their pursuers. He mentally mapped their progress, calculating fallback points and potential hiding spots. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all they had.

Sloane stumbled behind him, her foot catching on a root. Callum stopped immediately, his arm shooting out to steady her before she could hit the ground.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her breath hitching. She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I’m slowing us down.”

“You’re doing fine. Better than most people would.” He couldn’t even imagine what Marissa would be like in the same setting.

He glanced over Sloane, scanning for any injuries she might be hiding. Aside from the scratches on her arms and the smudges of dirt on her face, she seemed intact. Physically, at least. But her trembling hands and the way she kept looking over her shoulder told him she was holding on by a thread.

Callum crouched slightly to meet her gaze. He knew they had to keep moving, but if she couldn’t keep it together, they were going to be in big trouble. The chances of them making it out of this alive reduced drastically if he had to knock her out cold and carry her.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but intense. “I know you’re tired. I know you’re scared. And hell, I know you don’t even know me. But I need you to trust me, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Okay.” Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded. “What’s your last name?”

“Webb. Callum Webb.”

That seemed to give her something she needed. She nodded. “Okay.”

He gave her a curt nod and straightened. “Good. Let’s keep moving.”

They pressed on. The air was heavy, damp with the promise of rain in the forest around them. The first drops began to fall as they reached a narrow clearing, the patter of water on leaves masking their footsteps.

“Rain’s good,” Callum muttered, more to himself than her. “Covers our tracks.”

Sloane didn’t respond, but he could hear her labored breathing behind him. He slowed his pace slightly, matching hers without making it obvious. The balance was tricky. He needed her to push as much as she could, but not so much her body gave out on her.

After another mile, he caught the faintest sound—the crackle of a radio. The Kozaks’ men were closer than he’d thought but had finally gotten smart and were being quiet, stopping all the yelling. Callum froze, holding up a hand to stop Sloane. She nearly bumped into him, her small gasp loud in the stillness.

“What is it?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He put a finger over his lips to signal for her silence.

He tilted his head, listening and watching. Flashlight beams flickered in the darkness, their arcs slicing through the trees. Callum’s jaw tightened. The guards were too close. There was no time to run. They needed to hide.

“Over here,” he whispered, tugging her toward a massive oak tree. He pressed her back against the rough bark, stepping in front of her. His body shielded hers completely. She was small enough that his shoulders blocked her from view entirely.

Not that that was going to help her if bullets started flying.

Sloane’s hands clutched at his jacket, her fingers digging into the fabric. Her breathing was shallow, each exhale warm against his chest. He could feel her trembling, the fear rolling off her in waves.

“You’re okay,” he murmured as softly as possible, keeping his eyes on the approaching lights. “I’ve got you.”

The flashlight beams grew brighter and the voices clearer as their hunters spoke low to one another. Callum tensed, every muscle coiled and ready. If they were spotted, he’d have seconds to react. There were at least five of them to just him, but he would do his damnedest to keep them from taking Sloane—even separating and leading them off in a different direction if he had to.

He cupped his hand behind her neck, pushing her closer against his chest, hoping to block out any unwilling sound that might escape her. Her much smaller body was engulfed by his. Everything about this woman brought out the protector in him.

He held perfectly still as the men got closer, arms firm around Sloane’s trembling form. The lights passed by, too close for comfort, but the guards didn’t see them in their hiding spot and didn’t stop.

Even after their voices faded, swallowed by the rain and the forest, Callum waited, holding them still to make sure none of them doubled back and because it gave her a much-needed respite from their desperate escape.

Yeah, right. That was the reason.

He finally stepped back slightly. “They’re gone. We need to keep going.”

She didn’t respond. When he looked down, he saw her eyes squeezed shut, her lips moving soundlessly. She was muttering something—a prayer, maybe, or a desperate attempt to ground herself.

“Sloane,” he said gently, touching her cheek. She flinched but didn’t pull away. “Hey. Look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and he saw the panic in them, raw and unguarded. “I—I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “They’re going to find us. They’re going to take me back. Nikola is going to?—”

“No on all counts,” he said, his tone firm. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, mixing with the rain. “But?—”

Callum’s chest tightened. He didn’t know what she’d been through, but it was enough to leave her like this—broken, terrified, and convinced she’d never be safe again.

“We won’t let them get you,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Do you understand me? No one’s touching you. Not while I’m here.”

Her eyes searched his, as if trying to decide whether to believe him. After a long moment, she nodded.

“Good,” he said. He squeezed her shoulder gently. “Come on. We need to keep moving.”

The rain intensified as they climbed higher, the path growing steeper and more treacherous. Sloane stumbled frequently now, her body visibly shaking from cold and exhaustion. He took off his jacket and zipped it around her, but she barely responded. He kept a hand on her arm, steadying her whenever she faltered.

She was close to her breaking point. Everyone had one.

“Almost there,” he said, though he wasn’t sure where there was. He just needed her to keep going.

But after a few more minutes, he realized he was truly going to have to find a there —Sloane couldn’t keep going. She needed rest, at least for a few hours.

Through the storm, he spotted a small cave nestled against the rocky hillside. It wasn’t much, but it would keep them dry and hidden for a few hours.

“Up here,” he said, guiding her toward it. “We’ll rest for a while.”

Sloane hesitated, her steps faltering. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “One more push, and then you can rest.”

She nodded weakly, letting him lead her up the slippery incline. But just as they reached the cave’s mouth, Callum’s instincts flared. He spun, catching movement out of the corner of his eye.

A shadow lunged at him, and suddenly, Callum was on the ground, grappling with a hulking brute of a man. The guy’s knife flashed in the dim light, slashing toward Callum’s throat. Callum twisted, the blade slicing his arm instead. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t let it slow him down.

Fuck if he wasn’t collecting scars on this mission.

“Sloane, run!” he barked, his voice rough with effort as the man continued to stab at him.

She didn’t move. She stood frozen, her eyes wide with horror. She was done—her mind had shut down to protect itself.

Fuck .

Callum landed a punch to the huge man’s jaw, but the mercenary barely flinched. Callum tackled him to get them as far from Sloane as he could, but that put them dangerously close to the edge of the steep hillside, the rain making the ground slick and unstable.

The fight was brutal, raw. Callum was reaching the ends of his own reserves. The guard definitely had the upper hand—younger, bigger, not as exhausted.

And cocky. Callum could see it in his eyes. The guy knew he was going to win this fight. All he had to do was wear Callum down a little more and wait for Callum to make an error.

Callum gritted his teeth, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. Instead of coming in for another round of punching, he shoved the man with all his might, sending him teetering toward the steep edge. Callum managed one last push, diving out of the way as the other man stumbled back. The mercenary’s eyes widened in shock as he fell, unable to do anything about it. His scream—already mostly drowned out by the storm—was cut short by the darkness below.

Callum staggered back, his chest heaving. Blood dripped from his arm, but he barely noticed. His focus was on Sloane, who stood rooted to the spot, her face pale and wan.

“It’s over,” he said, his voice softer now. “He’s gone.”

Her knees buckled, and Callum caught her and pulled her against him before she hit the ground.

“Hey,” he said gently, leading her back to the cave. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She didn’t respond, her body trembling violently. Leaving her at the entrance of the cave, Callum grabbed a stick and wandered into the tiny crevice, using it to scare away any critters that might have the same idea about getting dry and warm. When it was cleared, he led her inside, helping her ease down to sit on the ground.

She still hadn’t said a word. Her eyes were blank.

“Here,” he said, digging into his vest and pulling out a mostly crushed ration bar. It tasted like shit but would get some calories into her system. She needed them. He pressed it into her hands. “Eat this.”

She stared at it blankly, so he unwrapped it himself and began feeding her pieces like she was a baby bird.

A few bites were all she could manage before she turned her head to the side. Callum decided not to push it. Her body sagged against the cave wall, her head resting on the cool stone. Within minutes, her breathing evened out, and she was asleep.

He wasn’t surprised. Her mind was protecting her the best way it could, and sleep would do her the most good overall.

Callum stayed awake, his back against the cave entrance. His eyes scanned the forest, his ears tuned to every sound. The rain fell in a steady rhythm, masking their presence.

He glanced back at Sloane, her face soft in sleep. She looked fragile, but he knew better. She’d survived this long, and he’d make sure she kept surviving.

No matter what it took.