Page 6 of Hunted by the Mountain Man (Darkmore Mountain Men #5)

six

Cole

The tactical display shows Costa's men have been circling our bunker for six hours, probing for weaknesses they won't find. But watching them hunt for a way in isn't what's eating at me. It's the growing certainty that once this is over, I'll lose Anna anyway.

She's curled against my side on the narrow cot, dozing fitfully after our passionate claiming.

Even in sleep, she stays close, her hand fisted in my shirt like she's afraid I'll disappear.

The trust in that simple gesture does something to my chest that has nothing to do with my healing bullet graze.

"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 the world. I'm a professional who chose isolation, not someone who couldn't function anywhere else.

The operation unfolds with textbook precision. Costa's men, caught between superior firepower and impossible terrain, surrender without significant resistance. Within twenty minutes, it's over.

"Emergency beacon source, this is RCMP tactical," the pilot reports. "All hostiles secured. Requesting extraction for civilians."

I look at Anna, seeing my own conflicted emotions reflected in her dark eyes. This is it—the moment where she leaves my mountain sanctuary and returns to the real world.

"Tell them we're ready for extraction," she says quietly.

I key the radio with a heavy heart. "RCMP tactical, civilians are secure and ready for pickup."

Twenty minutes later, we stand on the ridge watching the last helicopter disappear over the horizon, taking Costa's captured men with them. The silence that follows feels deafening.

"So," Anna says, not looking at me. "I guess it's over."

"Yeah."

"The RCMP officer said they'll have a debriefing team here tomorrow. Then witness protection will arrange my relocation."

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"Cole." She turns to face me fully. "Look at me."

I meet her eyes, knowing she can see everything I'm feeling—the love, the fear, the certainty that I'm about to lose the best thing that's ever happened to me.

"I meant what I said before. You don't get to decide this for me." Her voice is steady, determined. "I get to choose my own life. And I choose you."

"Anna—"

"No." She steps closer, her hands framing my face. "I choose you, Cole Manning. I choose this mountain, this life, this future we could build together. I choose love over safety, connection over isolation."

"You don't understand what you're giving up—"

"I understand perfectly." Her thumbs trace my cheekbones. "I'm giving up a life of running and hiding for a life of belonging somewhere. With someone."

Before I can argue further, she's kissing me—fierce, desperate, claiming. When we break apart, there are tears on her cheeks.

"Don't you dare try to noble sacrifice me," she whispers. "I've been alone for two years, Cole. I won't be alone anymore. Not when I've found you."

Something breaks open in my chest—hope, terror, love so intense it's physically painful.

"If you stay," I say roughly, "there's no going back. This life, these mountains—it's all I have to offer."

"It's all I want." Her smile is radiant despite her tears. "Just you. Just this. Just us."

I kiss her again, pouring every emotion I can't voice into the contact. When I finally pull back, my decision is made.

"Then stay," I whisper against her lips. "Stay and be mine forever."

"Forever," she agrees, and in that single word, I hear the promise of a future I never thought I'd have.

The mountains stretch endlessly around us, silent and eternal. But they're not empty anymore.

They're home.