11. Marcie
CHAPTER 11
MARCIE
THE SAME MORNING, SPAIN - DAY 1 – TIME TO RUN
“ T ime to run!”
The moment Elizabeth gave the signal, the men released us, and I was thrown forward into Anton’s arms. My mind struggled to catch up with what she’d just said. Were we actually going to be prey in their next sick hunt? Was this really happening?
“Run,” a guy shouted, the evil grin he wore spreading like oil over his face.
Oh fuck!
“Good luck!” Elizabeth’s mocking words rang out behind us, sharp as the crack of a whip.
Panic clawed at my throat, but I had no time to dwell on it.
“Come on, honey,” Anton said, already pulling me, his hand gripping mine as we took off. The sun was still high, its heat strong, baking the earth beneath our feet. Dust kicked up as we ran across the dry, uneven ground, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to keep pace with him.
But it was impossible.
My feet wobbled with every step, sending jolts of pain up my legs. These boots might look great, but they weren’t made for running. God, what I wouldn’t give for some running shoes right now. I tripped, stumbling forward, but Anton was there, holding me steady.
“I can’t—” I gasped, struggling to breathe as the harsh reality hit me. “I can’t run in these heels.”
He stopped just long enough to look at me, his eyes scanning my boots. Without a word, he dropped to one knee and grabbed my ankle.
“Anton, what are you doing?”
A sharp snap echoed in the air as he broke the heel off one boot, then the other.
“They’ll feel odd for a while but eventually the sole should flatten out and they’ll feel a bit better,” Anton assured me. I hoped he was right because otherwise, we wouldn’t get far.
I panted, trying to get my breathing under control, my eyes darting back over my shoulder to see if anyone was following us yet. They weren’t. Some were walking back toward the house, and others were simply standing, watching us run as though this were some everyday sport. For them, I supposed it was. Bile rose in my throat, and I gulped hard to keep it down. At least we were getting a head start. I’d thought that psychotic bitch had been lying, messing with our heads as another layer to her game.
“What are we going to do?” I asked, turning back to Anton, my voice cracking with unshed tears.
The worry of everything—Elizabeth’s twisted schemes, the fear of what was coming—pressed down on me, threatening to drown me in panic.
“I don’t know yet, honey, but I promise I’ll keep you safe.” Anton stood, his gaze soft as he took my face in his hands. “They’ll be coming soon,” he said quietly. “That psycho said we’d get a two hour start, but I doubt she’s one to keep her word. Still, let’s hope that they really want to make a game of this and give us a decent enough head start. That’s all we need—just enough time to put some distance between us until I can figure out our best way out of this mess.”
My lips quivered, and I trembled.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, his tone soft and steady despite the situation and I drew strength from that.
“Yes.” My voice hitched as I said the word, but it was true.
“Then believe me when I tell you that I’ll get us out of this. What’s ahead isn’t going to be easy, but we’ll get through it. Okay?”
“Okay,” I replied, the sound barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.
He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. Just a slight brush of his lips, but it grounded me, anchoring me in the middle of my spiralling fear.
Pulling back, he locked eyes with me. “We need to move. Now.” His tone was calm, deliberate, but the tension in his jaw betrayed the gravity of the moment.
I nodded, my chest tight with fear and adrenaline, and we took off again. My new footwear wasn’t perfect, but I could run now—though barely. Each step was rough and uneven, sending shocks through my already aching legs, but I pushed through, focused on one thing: getting as far away from them as possible.
The ground beneath us was dry and cracked from the unforgiving sun, the landscape barren except for a few clusters of scrubby bushes and scattered rocks. There were no trees for cover, no place to hide. And with every second that passed, our head start advantage was slipping through our fingers like sand.
Thank God Anton was here. My Mr Sexy Soldier. If there was anyone I wanted with me during this nightmare, it was him. Not just for the obvious advantage his skillset provided, but because his mere presence anchored me. The calm, determined gaze he wore cut through the chaos, steadying my nerves when panic threatened to take over.
His grip on my hand was firm, pulling me forward as we sprinted across the open land. My lungs burned with every breath, my legs screaming in protest, but I refused to stop.
The landscape offered no reprieve, no hope of cover. Just endless stretches of barren earth, rolling hills, and scattered rocks. We were exposed. Vulnerable.
“Where the hell are we?” I gasped between pants.
“It’s Europe,” he said, his voice strained with effort as he pushed us onward, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Spain, most likely. The terrain, the heat… it fits.”
Europe. Spain. His words barely registered, but the thought of being so far from home made my chest tighten. We were miles from help—cut off from anyone who could save us.
“I can’t keep this pace up much longer,” I rasped, my throat raw and dry from the relentless heat and effort.
“I know.” He slowed, pulling me to a stop, and reached into the back pocket of his jeans. Producing the bottle of water the bitch had thrown at him, he held it out to me. “Here, take a sip. Not too much—we need to conserve it until we find more.”
Grabbing the bottle with shaking hands, I gulped down a mouthful. The water was warm, borderline hot, but it felt like liquid gold against my parched throat. When he pulled the bottle away, I nearly whimpered, the ache for more almost unbearable. But Anton was right, we needed to ration it.
He took a quick sip himself before capping the bottle and tucking it away. His gaze shifted behind us, scanning the expanse of terrain we’d covered. I didn’t dare look. If they were coming for us already, I didn’t want to know. Ignorance was bliss, at least for now.
“Okay, let’s go. We can slow down a bit, but we need to keep moving.”
“Yes, sir,” I quipped, giving him a mock salute, hoping my sass would lighten the mood.
It worked. A smirk tugged at his lips, and I caught a glimmer in his eye—something teasing, something wicked. That look alone stirred ideas I had no business entertaining in the middle of this nightmare.
But the moment was fleeting. My mood dipped sharply with the reminder that this wasn’t a game.
“We need to go again, honey,” Anton said. Tears pricked at my eyes, but thankfully he didn’t notice. Instead, he grabbed my hand, and we were on the move again.
God, why was running so bloody hard? If I survived this, I swore I’d never skip cardio day again. Hell, I’d train for a marathon. Anything to avoid feeling this hopelessly out of shape ever again.
Time blurred into a haze of pain and exhaustion. My legs trembled with every step, my muscles screaming for rest, but I pushed on. They had to have started the hunt by now. The thought of being caught—of what they would do—kept me moving.
Finally, the landscape began to change. The flat, open ground gave way to rocky slopes, the sun casting long shadows across the dry terrain. I stumbled again, my footing slipping on the loose stones, but Anton steadied me with ease.
The silence around us was oppressive, broken only by the crunch of rocks beneath our feet and the sound of my laboured breathing. Each step felt heavier than the last, my legs trembling as fatigue gnawed at my resolve.
I glanced at Anton, a slight sheen of sweat coating his skin, that unruly flop of hair curling on his forehead. Despite the unyielding heat and frantic pace and the bruising on his face, he looked like an action figure—thick, bulging muscles, a buff body that could probably take on anything. That gave me hope—if anyone could get us through this, it was Anton.
Lord, he was gorgeous. How the hell could he still look so good when I was a hot mess—drenched in sweat, gasping for air, with a wheeze that sounded like I was about to cough up a lung? Sexy, real sexy, Marcie. I snorted and rolled my eyes at the thought. This was hardly the time to worry about being sexy. Besides, Anton had already seen me at my worst. It was unlikely I could put him off any more than I already had.
I guessed I should be grateful for my unappealing appearance. Considering what I was facing, the less sexy I looked, the better. Maybe, just maybe, by the time these ‘hunters’ caught up to us, I’d be so gross they’d go straight for the kill and forget about their lewd suggestions.
We reached the crest of a small hill, the rocky slope beneath us seeming unstable, and Anton paused for a moment, scanning the landscape below. His sharp eyes narrowed as he took in the view, and then he pointed.
“There,” he said, his voice low, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “There’s a stream. We follow it. Might lead us to safety, or at least some cover.”
I followed his gaze, my breath catching in my throat as I spotted the thin line of water cutting through the dusty ground below. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
My legs screamed in protest as we started down the hill, each step a battle against the loose stones that threatened to send me tumbling. The strain in my muscles was almost unbearable, but I pushed forward, the thought of that stream spurring me on. Anton’s grip on my hand kept me anchored, pulling me through the struggle, reminding me that I couldn’t afford to collapse now.
“Fully submerge yourself. We’ll stay here for a few minutes. The water will help cool the sunburn,” Anton told me.
“We splashed into the water, the coolness shocking against my overheated skin. Anton crouched down, cupping his hands to drink, but I barely noticed, focused on my own parched throat as I gulped desperately from the stream.
“Feeling better?” Anton asked, the concern in his voice evident.
“How could I not? Sun, sweat, and sheer terror—plus a handsome man to enjoy it all with. What’s not to love?” I said with a slight chuckle, once again hoping to lighten the mood and stop myself from giving in to the worry creeping in on me.
A smile tugged at Anton’s lips, and my gaze locked on them. How I wanted to kiss them—to feel the warmth of him pressed against me, to forget this hell for just a moment.
Anton cleared his throat. “We need to go again, Marcie,” he said, amusement lacing his voice.
My cheeks heated, and I blinked rapidly at the sound of his voice, nodding as I quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t guessed what I was thinking. This was hardly the time or place to be fantasising about such things.
Forcing my thoughts away from the tempting idea of how those lips might feel against mine and back to the present issue, I nodded, though doubt gnawed at me. My body was exhausted, every step an effort. The dry heat of the sun was sapping what little energy I had left. But there was no other option. We had to keep going.
Anton had his hand up, shading his eyes as he scanned the area around us.
“Where to?”
He motioned to a cluster of hills about a mile off to the right, the tallest of which was crested by a forest-like area. “We need to get up there. It’ll be harder for them to track us once we’re hidden amongst the trees.”
“Great,” I said, relief evident in my voice. The thought of somewhere to hide that might also get us out of this searing heat felt like a lifeline, however small.
Anton took my hand again, pulling me forward. We ran along the stream’s edge, our feet splashing through the shallow water, the rocky ground uneven beneath us. My lungs burned with each breath, but I kept pushing, kept running. Each step was a battle, every splash a reminder that no matter how far we’d already run, the chase was barely underway, the danger only just beginning—and the worst was yet to come.