Page 109 of Shadows of Obsession

I would endure whatever it took. I would play possum for as long as I had to. Because the alternative—giving up, letting them win, letting them hurt Jaxon more than they already had—was unthinkable.

I focused on my breathing, each inhale and exhale an act of quiet defiance against the men who wanted to break me. In through my nose, slow and steady. Out through parted lips, measured and even.

I survived Daniel. I escaped an abusive relationship, rebuilt my life from nothing, learned to trust again. I wasn't that broken woman who fled in the night months ago.

And I would make damn sure they lived to regret the day they ever laid a hand on me.

Jaxon

I gently tugged on the reins, signaling for Choco to halt. We'd reached the point on the trail where the cabin came into view through the trees, its weathered exterior blending seamlessly with thesurrounding forest, as if it had grown there naturally instead of being built.

With a soft grunt, I dismounted. My boots hit the ground with a muffled thud that still sounded too loud despite the cushion of pine needles beneath me. I led Choco carefully off the trail and deeper into the undergrowth, the dense foliage forming a natural screen from prying eyes. Branches caught at my clothes as we pushed through, and the sharp green scent of crushed ferns filled the air.

Once I was satisfied we were far enough from the road, at least fifty yards into thick cover, I retrieved a lead from my backpack and secured Choco to a sturdy tree trunk. As I tied the knot, muscle memory from years of fieldwork took over, and a wry smile tugged at the corner of my mouth despite the circumstances.

If Anna could see me now, she'd probably have a conniption.

The last time Choco had been tied to a tree, things hadn't exactly gone according to plan. Or maybe they had in a roundabout way that only made sense looking back.

My mind drifted to that night, the memory still vivid as if it had happened yesterday instead of just weeks ago. If Choco hadn't gotten loose, Anna and I might've simply agreed to a truce and gone our separate ways. Two people passing like ships in the night. Nothing more.

But because he escaped, because I'd spent the night scouring the woods for her beloved horse, she'd shown up at my doorstep the next morning. Armed with breakfast and that openness that caught me completely off guard, she'd cracked through defenses I'd spent five years building.

That day, we both let our walls down, sharing pieces of our pasts we'd kept hidden for far too long. Pieces I never thought I'd share with anyone again.

I told her about Nikki.

It felt like a lifetime ago, though only a short time had passed. And yet, in that brief span, our relationship had grown into something I'd never dared hope for after losing Nikki. Something I would fight tooth and nail to protect.

Something worth dying for.

Giving myself a mental shake, I refocused on the task at hand. Anna needed me clearheaded, thinking like the Marine I used to be, not the man unraveling at the thought of losing her.

The mission was simple: Assess. Plan. Execute.

With the stealth honed by years as a reconnaissance Marine, I crept through the trees toward the cabin, keeping low to the ground. I blended with the ferns carpeting the forest floor, my movements fluid and silent as I drew closer. Every step was deliberate, weight distributed carefully to avoid snapping twigs or rustling leaves.

I stayed in the shadows where the afternoon sun couldn't pierce the canopy, breathing slow and steady despite the adrenaline surging through me.

When I'd gotten as close as I dared, maybe thirty yards out with a clear line of sight, I shrugged off my backpack and set it quietly beside me. The forest floor was soft here, the years of decomposing leaves creating a cushion that swallowed sound.

I scanned the cabin, eyes searching for movement. Windows, doors, any sign of life or weakness.

Reaching into the bag, I retrieved the scope that had once been mounted on one of my rifles. The metal was cool and familiar in my hands. Raising it to my eye, I swept the cabin's exterior with practiced precision. The magnified view sharpened every detail—the peeling paint, a loose shutter, the glint of glass.

Through one of the living room windows, I spotted a lone figure pacing restlessly back and forth. The man was a stranger. Tall, muscular, moving with the coiled energy of someone accustomed to violence. Blonde hair. Tattoos on his arms.

He has to be the drug dealer.

A sinking feeling settled in my gut. This had to be the guy Jared got mixed up with, the one whose debt had spiraled into Nikki's murder. As much as that note reeked of Jared's involvement, I knew my brother didn't have the backbone to pull something like this off alone.

Jared's just a pawn; this guy's the real threat.

My mind raced as I mapped out possible entry points. The living room had two windows, both offering clear views in and out. Anotherwindow at the far end of the kitchen, and a few more at the front, but those would leave me completely exposed.

The upper floor had windows too, but without a way to reach them short of climbing the wall, they were useless.

The kitchen window was my best bet, my only real choice if I wanted to get inside unnoticed.