21. Marcie
CHAPTER 21
MARCIE
DAY 3 – LATER THAT MORNING – BLOODY VENGEANCE
T he detective’s door slammed shut, the sound echoing unnervingly in the still night. My pulse thundered as I shot a glance at Anton. His face was carved from stone, his expression calm yet laced with something deadly.
I could feel my own fear clawing at me, but Anton’s steady gaze locked onto mine, wordlessly urging me to hold on.
Then the detective’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“Out. Both of you. Now.”
Anton opened the door slowly, raising his hands in the air as if complying. My heart pounded harder, the pulse in my ears deafening as I kept my gaze fixed on him. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look rattled. His eyes flicked to me, a silent message passing between us: He had a plan . My chest tightened at the look in his eyes—calm yet dangerous—and it took everything I had not to panic.
“You too,” the detective said, motioning to me and taking his eyes off Anton for a split second.
In that instant, Anton spun, faster than I could register. He reached for the detective’s gun, grabbing the barrel with a brutal twist. The detective’s eyes widened in shock, but before he could react, Anton drove his fist into the man’s jaw. The detective crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud, gasping for breath, his weapon falling from his grip.
Anton was on him in a heartbeat, but I didn’t have time to process what happened next as the driver’s hand shot through the open car door, his fingers closing around my wrist with a vice-like grip.
“Come out, bitch,” he sneered. His breath reeked, making me want to gag as he pulled me toward him, yanking my arm hard enough to make me cry out. “I told you I was going to make you scream, and I’ll enjoy every minute of it,” the sick bastard taunted.
My eyes flew to where Anton was wrestling with the detective.
The bastard pulled me to him, holding me close with one hand while his other hand groped at my breast, his voice a lecherous growl. “You’re going to beg for it, sweetheart.”
I gagged, disgust twisting my stomach, but something inside me snapped. I wouldn’t let this happen. I dug my knee into the man’s groin with all the strength I had left, and he cursed, loosening his grip just long enough for me to break free.
Reaching for my knife, I pulled the blade and buried it deep in the man’s shoulder, twisting it in spiteful fury. His scream split the night air, and he staggered back. Pulling the knife from his shoulder, the man glared at me, his eyes full of vengeful promise.
“You think that’s a knife?” he asked, his tone full of amusement as he tossed it aside.
“This is a knife,” he said, pulling a massive hunting knife from his boot.
My eyes widened at the sight. Fuck! My pulse hammered in my throat, and then the world seemed to narrow to the glinting blade in his hand.
Brandishing the knife, he lunged towards me, growling, “You little whore, you’ll pay for that.”
A blur of movement caught my eye as Anton ran towards him, fists flying, with a fury in his eyes that sent a chill down my spine at the same time as it warmed my heart. They crashed to the ground, Anton straddling the guy as he bucked and flailed. But it was no use; Anton was like a feral beast again, and that beast had come out to protect me. It was both a frightening and exhilarating thought.
The man’s grunts of pain merged with the sharp crack of bone as Anton snapped his wrist. I winced at the sound but couldn’t tear my eyes away as, with brutal efficiency, Anton severed the guy’s hand with the hunting knife.
“That’s for touching my woman, you fucking perverted bastard,” Anton screamed in the guy’s face before sticking the knife straight into his eye, cutting off the man’s screams almost instantly. His eyes were wild, his breath coming in short, sharp pants, and his whole body shook with unrestrained fury.
My own breathing was erratic as I stood there, eyes wide with shock, watching my Mr Sexy Soldier defend me in such a horrific, yet savagely protective, way.
It felt like forever before Anton rose, his body drenched in blood, his chest still heaving.
“Check the boot, Marcie, see if there’s anything useful,” Anton said, his voice low and strained, as if he was still battling to regain control. “I’ll deal with them,” he added, his tone sharp.
I was shaking, my body still in shock, but I did as he said, doing my best to ignore the sounds of something heavy being dragged and muffled grunts. I opened the trunk, the smell of blood thick in the air, and rifled through it, grabbing anything that might help us.
Inside a bag, I found a torch, some bottles of water, and a couple of chocolate bars along with some extra clothes. When Anton came over, I tossed some at him.
“Thanks, honey,” he said, as he began to strip down, his movements methodical. Despite the situation, my lady parts tingled as my gaze lingered on his muscular bum and sculpted physique while he stood with his back to me, pulling on trousers. Well, I might have had a near-death experience, but I wasn’t dead yet.
When Anton finished changing, he came over to me, his expression intense. “Marko can sort out the details later,” he said, his voice still laced with tension.
Taking me in his arms, he pulled me close. “How are you doing, Marcie? Did he hurt you?” he asked, rubbing his cheek against my hair as if trying to reassure himself that I was alive. His body was still tense, and his breathing ragged, like he was fighting to suppress the lingering adrenaline.
“No, I’m fine,” I replied, wanting to settle him.
He pulled back and let his gaze travel over my face, anger flaring in his eyes again when he saw the bruise blooming on my cheek from where the driver had slapped me.
Brushing his hand gently over the area, he tilted my head up and took my lips in a tender kiss that made my toes curl and my eyelids flutter shut. The moment of tenderness was such a contrast to his earlier ruthless violence, it made my heart ache. As we stood in each other’s arms, the world melted away, leaving only the safety I felt in his embrace.
“Did you find anything useful?” he asked, reluctantly pulling us both back to the present.
“There’s some more clothing that might fit me, but I know how much this dress turns you on,” I quipped with a wicked grin, tossing a playful wink his way. “Permission to strip, Sir?”
Anton chuckled, his eyes darkening with lust. “Oh, it’s not the dress that turns me on, Little Miss Sassy,” he drawled, grabbing me by the waist and hauling me close. “It’s the fierce, infuriating woman wearing it.”
I barely had time to laugh before his lips claimed mine in a kiss that left me breathless, my knees threatening to buckle under the intensity.
With a smirk, he pulled back, steadying me before landing a sharp, playful smack on my bum. “Go get changed while I sort this out,” he ordered, his voice rich with authority.
“Yes, sir,” I shot back with a cheeky salute, spinning on my heel and heading to the boot to retrieve the extra clothing.
As I finished pulling on the clothes, I’d found—a pair of loose-fitting jogging bottoms, a hoodie, and a simple black T-shirt to cover my chest—Anton approached me. His expression was firm, focused, and free of any signs of the earlier violence.
“We can’t use the police car,” he said, his tone measured. “It’ll be traced back to us too easily. We need to make this look like they dropped us off somewhere and then had an accident. Marko can help cover our tracks with that too when he arrives.”
I tilted my head, catching the glint of intent in his eyes as he gestured toward the edge of the dirt track, where the embankment sloped steeply down into the dense forest.
“We’re going to push the car down there,” he continued, his voice steady but edged with purpose. “If it hits the trees, it’ll be convincing enough.”
“Got it,” I said, stepping up beside him.
Together, we moved to the rear of the car. The warm afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the ground as we worked. The dry dirt beneath my feet shifted slightly as I positioned myself behind the vehicle. Anton leaned through the open driver’s side window, gripping the steering wheel.
“Ready?” he asked, glancing back at me.
I nodded, pressing my hands firmly against the cool metal. “Ready.”
“Push!”
The vehicle groaned as it started to roll forward. I dug my trainers into the loose earth, straining against the weight, while Anton steered, his powerful arms flexing as he kept the vehicle on course.
The car gathered momentum, its path uneven as it bounced slightly over the rugged ground. My arms burned with the effort, but I gritted my teeth, focusing on the task. This wasn’t just about escaping—it was about ensuring we stayed a step ahead of the hell closing in around us.
As it neared the embankment’s edge, Anton ran back to my side. With a final shove, the car tipped forward and plunged down the slope, the sound of snapping branches and scraping metal echoing through the forest.
It collided with a tree halfway down, the impact sending a shudder through the air. Moments later, flames began to lick at the bonnet, rapidly spreading until the entire vehicle was ablaze. The heat was intense, even from our vantage point, and I instinctively stepped closer to Anton.
Shouldering the backpack, he grabbed my hand, his fingers strong and reassuring. “We need to get out of here,” he said, his voice low but urgent.
I squeezed his hand in return. “I’m with you in that.”
Without another word, we turned and ran, the roaring fire fading behind us as we disappeared into the trees.
We vanished into the forest again, the crackle of flames in the distance a brutal reminder of how close we’d come to dying. We’d fought to stay alive—had to kill to stay one step ahead—but the question lingered: How much longer could we keep running on nothing but luck? The days stretched on, no help in sight, and I couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that our time was running out.