Page 125 of Shadows of Obsession

A cold, rational part of his mind whispered that she wasn't worth the effort, that he should cut his losses, return to his life in Seattle, and find someone new. Someone more compliant. More grateful for his attention.

But he had come too far to turn back now. He had invested too much of himself—time, money, energy, his very identity—in this hunt to let her slip away. To admit defeat would be to admit that she'd won, that a woman had bested him.

Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.

No, he would find her, no matter the cost. He would make her regret ever daring to defy him, to think she could escape the consequences of her actions. To believe she could build a life without him, as if he were something disposable, something to be discarded when inconvenient.

And when he was finished with her, when justice had been served and the natural order restored, he would end her miserable life. He believed it was a fitting punishment for the trouble she had caused, for the disrespect she had shown.

It was only fair. She had made her choice when she left.

With a deep, steadying breath that did nothing to calm the storm raging inside him, Daniel opened his eyes. His gaze hardened with renewed determination, jaw setting into a stubborn line.

He wouldn’t be deterred. Not by setbacks, not by obstacles. He was a man on a mission, driven by a single, all-consuming purpose that gave his life meaning and direction.

Anna would be his again, to do with as he pleased. And nothing—not Connor with his cowboy swagger and protective instincts, not the vast expanse of the unknown that lay before him, not even Anna's pathetic attempts to hide—would stand in his way.

I always win. Always have. Always will.

He put the car in gear, the engine roaring to life with a rumble that vibrated through his bones. Gravel sprayed behind his tires as he tore out of the parking lot, his mind already racing with the possibilities of where to go next.

He needed to think strategically.

What strings could he pull? He had connections back in Vermont, people who owed him favors. Private investigators who might track Connor's registration, uncover property records, dig up information not readily available to the public.

What stones could he overturn in his relentless pursuit of his prey? He could dig deeper into Connor's online presence, look for tagged locations, mutual friends who might let something slip. Horse show circuits, there had to be schedules, upcoming events where Connor might appear.

The hunt was on, and Daniel was determined to emerge victorious, no matter the cost. To himself, to Anna, to anyone who got in his way.

She thinks she's free. She thinks she's safe.

A smile curved his lips, cold and devoid of warmth or humanity.

But she's not. She'll never be free. And soon, she'll understand that.

As he merged onto the highway, the horse show grounds disappearing in his rearview mirror, Daniel felt a strange sense of calm settle over the rage. Not peace, exactly, but purpose. Direction.

This isn't over, Anna. Not even close. I'm coming for you.

The miles stretched out before him, an endless ribbon of asphalt leading toward an unknown destination. But Daniel didn't care where the road led, as long as it eventually led to her.

Because it would. It had to.

He'dmake sure of it.

CHAPTER 34

Anna

"Connor?" I called softly, poking my head into the home office and finding him behind his desk, engrossed in his phone. The familiar sight, him surrounded by paperwork and show schedules, his reading glasses perched on his nose, made me smile despite my nervousness.

At the sound of my voice, he looked up, a warm smile spreading across his face as he waved me in. "What's up?"

I slipped into the room, settling into the worn leather chair across from him, the same chair I'd sat in when I first arrived and learned about some of his horses and his business. My fingers drummed against the armrest as I chewed the inside of my cheek, a nervous habit I couldn't quite shake.

I urged myself to just say it. He wouldn't bite my head off.

The past week since Connor's return had been a challenge, an effort to slip back into normalcy that always felt just out of reach. My physical healing was progressing; bruising on my face had faded from deep purple to a sickly yellow-green, and the rope burns on my wrists were scabbing over. But emotional healing was slower, more tangled, more complicated.