27. Marcie
CHAPTER 27
MARCIE
DAY 5 – AFTERNOON – FREE AT LAST
N o. This couldn’t be happening. My stomach churned violently as the horrifying reality unfolded before me. Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, my stalker was here, smug and triumphant. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the nightmare to dissolve, praying this wasn’t real.
How had I let this happen? How could I have got myself caught? What a reckless, stupid fool I was. Now the guys were trapped, bound, and surrounded by armed maniacs. There was no way out. Even with Anton’s skill and Miki’s ingenuity, I couldn’t see how we’d escape this alive.
This was my fault. I should never have insisted on coming. Without me, they’d have killed this psychotic bitch and her men already, maybe even be halfway back to the villa by now. But because of me, they were cornered—because of me, Anton was in danger.
“I had to pull quite a few strings and call in some favours to make this reunion happen,” Elizabeth purred, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “But I’ve always been resourceful. And I knew how much Rupert would want to be a part of my plans for you, Marcie.”
Her words froze the air in my lungs.
“I do indeed,” Rupert drawled as he stepped forward, his voice a sickening mixture of arrogance and glee. His hand yanked me out of the other brute’s grasp, pulling me into his. My stomach recoiled at the possessive grip he had on me, his fingers pressing into my skin as though staking his claim. His hand slid over my face, and I shuddered, revulsion rippling through me.
“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” he murmured, his voice sending a fresh wave of nausea through me as his lips grazed my ear. I thrashed against him, my fury and terror boiling over, but he only tightened his hold.
“Get off me!” I spat, but he laughed, the sound low and triumphant.
Rupert’s lips trailed down my jawline, slow and deliberate, his breath hot against my skin. “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s finally our time,” he cooed quietly into my ear. His hand curled around my throat, applying just enough pressure to make me gasp.
A cruel laugh echoed from Elizabeth. “Rupert is going to have his fun with you, Marcie. And when he’s done, my men will take their turn. It’s going to be a long, slow, painful end for you.”
“You bloody bitch! I’ll kill you for this!” Anton roared, his voice rough with fury. The sound sliced through me as sharply as any blade, and I turned toward him. Seeing him brought to his knees because of my mistake shattered something inside me.
“Ha!” Elizabeth’s mocking laugh filled the room. “You’re in no position to make threats, Mr DuPont. Ex-special forces or not, your skills might have helped you before, taking down a few hunters at a time. But this? You’re facing the might of my entire team. You’ve lost.”
Her words rattled through me like gunfire, leaving me trembling.
I was going to lose him—the man I loved—and it was all my fault.
No. I couldn’t let it end this way. I couldn’t let Elizabeth win, couldn’t let Rupert or his sick games destroy everything we’d fought so hard for. I had to fight. For Anton. For us. For the chance to make it out of this alive.
Elizabeth’s sharp voice sliced through my racing thoughts. “Well, time is pressing, and I’ve got other revenge plots to hatch,” she said, her voice chillingly casual, as if this were just another day for her. “This one needs to end, and there’s no time like the present. Miki, as pakhan, it’s only fitting that you get a bullet to the brain first. Then we’ll blow Ash’s head off. But you, Anton? We’ll take our time with you. It’s only fair that Marcie’s partner stays with her right to the bitter end. So, get comfortable, Mr DuPont, and enjoy the show.”
My heart stuttered in my chest, the icy grip of fear tightening around my ribs. The guys were going to die and then she was going to make Anton watch as her men brutalised me. A sob escaped. I needed to do something, but what?
Elizabeth nodded at her guard and he raised his weapon, aiming it at Miki’s head.
“No,” I gasped, just as the sharp, clean crack of a gunshot split the air.
But it wasn’t Miki who was hit. The guard’s head snapped back, a spray of blood staining the floor as he crumpled silently. A second shot rang out, and I turned my head just in time to see the man behind Ash collapse, his weapon slipping from his hands as his body fell in a disjointed heap.
Everything happened fast after that. Miki surged to his feet, his movements startlingly quick. Somehow, he’d cut through his bindings and freed Ash. Now armed with a rifle, Miki became a lethal force, cutting down the remaining men with precision and efficiency.
I barely registered the chaos. Rupert snarled in frustration, his grip tightening as he dragged me toward the door. The fight raged around us, but I had no time to focus on it—I was too intent on escaping the madman before it was too late.
“You’ll never escape me, Marcie,” he hissed, his voice a chilling mix of rage and glee. “I’m going to do everything I’ve dreamed of, and I’ll enjoy every second. You won’t—but I’ll make sure it lasts.”
His hand loosened on my neck as he fumbled with the door. Seizing my chance, I didn’t hesitate. I swung my elbow up, driving it into his gut. He grunted, his grip slackening further, giving me just enough room to twist around.
Grabbing the back of his neck, I yanked his head down and brought my knee up in a single, fluid motion. His nose shattered with a sickening crunch, blood spurting from the impact. Derrick’s self-defence classes had drilled that move into me, and I delivered it with every ounce of strength I could muster.
“Ugh! You’ll pay for that, you little bitch,” Rupert spat, his hand flying to staunch the stream of blood from his nose.
I turned to run, but he lunged at me, his arms snaking around my waist. We collided with the wall, the impact knocking the breath from me. He spun me around, his hands gripping my shoulders as he shook me violently. “Keep it up, Marcie. Fight me. You’re only making this more fun,” he sneered, leaning in close, his bloodied lips aiming for mine.
Terror gripped me, sharp and paralysing, but anger flared in its wake—a deep, primal rage. Adrenaline coursed through me, giving me the strength to act. I bit down hard on his lip, tasting copper as he howled and yanked his head back. Without hesitating, I drove the heel of my hand into his already broken nose.
He screamed, rearing back in pain, giving me just enough space to unleash a flurry of punches. My fists flew, landing hit after hit, forcing him to stumble backward. That’s when I saw it—my trusty pitchfork lying discarded on the ground.
I dived for it, gripping the handle tightly as I turned to face him, weapon raised. Rupert froze, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and fury.
“You’ll regret this,” he snarled, his voice ragged. “You might have escaped me this time, Marcie, but I’ll always be watching, waiting. One day, I’ll come for you again, and then you’ll be mine.” His words dripped with venom as he backed toward the door.
But the sight of him retreating only fuelled my fury. I couldn’t let him get away—not after everything he’d done.
“No!” I screamed, sprinting after Rupert.
He spun around, raising his arms to fend me off, but I was faster. Gripping the pitchfork tightly, I lunged forward, driving it into his throat with all the force I could muster. The impact sent a sickening jolt up my arms, pinning him to the wall as his eyes widened in shock.
My breathing came in frantic, ragged bursts as I watched the light fade from his gaze, his body spasming as he gurgled his final breath. Blood pooled around the tines of the fork, dripping to the floor in thick, crimson streaks.
Shock rolled over me like a tidal wave, and my legs buckled beneath me. I swayed, my vision blurring, but before I could collapse, Anton was there, his strong arms pulling me close. He held me tightly, his presence grounding me against the storm of emotions threatening to consume me.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice steady and calm as his fingers threaded through my hair. “It’s over, Marcie. You did what you had to.”
Burying my face in his chest, I clung to him, my fists clutching his shirt as sobs wracked my body. The adrenaline ebbed, leaving only the stark shock of what I’d done.
“I killed him,” I whispered, my voice trembling and distant, as though it didn’t belong to me.
Anton cupped the back of my head, his touch warm and steady. “You protected yourself,” he said firmly. “You’re alive. That’s what matters.”
For a moment, we stayed like that, his arms wrapped tightly around me, a reassuring presence that calmed my trembling frame. Gradually, my breathing evened out. I looked up at him, marvelling that we’d both survived.
Then a guttural scream ripped through the air—Elizabeth’s voice, shrill and desperate as she bolted for the door.
Anton moved with practiced precision, lifting a gun and firing a single, clean shot. The sound echoed through the space, and Elizabeth crumpled to the ground, her threat extinguished.
The staccato of more shots followed as our men finished the remaining guards. Then, silence. The room was eerily still, broken only by the laboured breathing of those who had fought and survived.
My gaze swept the room until it landed on Trigger, his hulking form standing amidst the carnage, his expression grim but resolute. Relief washed over me, and for the first time, I allowed myself to believe—we’d made it.
Miki stepped closer, his gaze flicking from Rupert’s lifeless body to me. His expression was calm, almost gentle, as he spoke. “You did good, Marcie. You didn’t have a choice, and you did what had to be done. He’d never have left you alone.”
His words carried a measure of truth I couldn’t deny. Slowly, I let out a shaky breath, my lips curving into a tentative smile. Miki was right. Rupert had stolen my peace for far too long. Ending his life meant reclaiming mine. I wouldn’t regret it—not now, not ever. Maybe I’d wish things hadn’t come to this, but I’d never look back and wish I hadn’t acted.
“It’s over, honey,” Anton murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
Leaning against his chest, I closed my eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing anchor me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to feel relief. We’d survived. Somehow, we’d made it through.
“Anton…” My voice was barely a whisper, breaking the silence as I struggled to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside me.
“I’m here, Marcie,” he said softly, his voice steady and certain. “I’ll always be here.”
I tilted my head up to meet his gaze, my hand brushing his cheek with hesitant reverence. He had to know—had to understand what had shifted inside me.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” I whispered, my voice trembling as the tears I’d held back began to rise. “When you surrendered to them… I realised something. I can’t lose you. Not ever. I won’t. I…” My breath caught, a single tear sliding down my cheek. “I love you.”
The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, but they carried no fear. No regret. Just truth.
For a moment, Anton didn’t speak. His hand rose to cup my face, his touch warm and steady. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine as his eyes softened, brimming with an emotion that mirrored my own.
“I love you too,” he murmured, his voice rough with vulnerability. “I think I always have. I was just too scared to admit it.”
Despite the tears streaking my face, I couldn’t help but smile. “You? Scared?”
A low, quiet laugh rumbled in his chest, and he smiled back at me. “You terrify me, Marcie,” he said, his grin warm and full of affection. “But in the best way. The things you make me feel… I’ve never felt that for anyone before.”
Silent tears traced paths down my cheeks, but before they could fall, Anton’s thumb brushed them away with a tenderness that made my heart ache.
I kissed him then, a kiss that began slow and gentle but quickly grew desperate—a release of everything we’d been holding back. It was a kiss that spoke of relief, of love, of everything we had survived.
Miki cleared his throat. “Marko confirmed the hacienda’s been dealt with. They’re on their way back to the villa. The clean-up crew is on their way here now, too. Let’s get out of here.”
“Clean-up crew?” I whispered to Anton, still trying to process everything that had happened.
“Miki’s uncle Maxim arranged it through one of the Spanish gangs he’s had dealings with. They’ll clear up the mess, get rid of the bodies,” Anton explained quietly as we walked back to the jeeps, our steps hurried yet heavy with the weight of everything that had just unfolded. Was it only a few days ago that this nightmare began? It felt like a lifetime.
As we settled into the backseat again, I let out a deep, relieved sigh. It really was over. We were free—not just from the immediate danger, but from the shadows of the past. Finally, we could breathe.
Free to build something real. Something lasting. And most of all, free to explore the love we had both finally admitted.
We returned to the villa, the silence between us settling into something almost peaceful. Anton took my hand, his touch warm but gentle, as if handling something precious, leading me back to our room.
“Come on,” he murmured softly, his voice a comforting rumble, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
The steam from the shower wrapped around us like a welcome embrace after everything that had happened. I stepped under the water first, closing my eyes as it poured over me, rinsing away the tension and stress from the past few hours.
My sexy soldier joined me without a word, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. His thumbs worked over the knots in my muscles with a tenderness that made my breath catch. There was no urgency in his touch, only a steady, soothing pressure. His hands drifted down my arms, coaxing the tightness out of my body, and I leaned into him, letting him take the weight from me.
Taking some shampoo, Anton lathered it through my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp with a slow, careful rhythm. My eyelids fluttered shut, and I sighed contentedly, loving the feel of his hands working through my hair.
“I’m exhausted. I think I could fall asleep right here,” I murmured, letting my head fall back into the water as he massaged my neck, the warmth of his hands settling deep into me like a quiet promise.
“Soon. Not yet,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “Let me take care of you first.”
His voice was thick with exhaustion, but the tenderness in it made something inside me soften. This was all I needed right now. Just him, here, with me, after everything we’d been through.
Like the bath the evening before, we washed each other, but this time it was softer, more soothing than passionate—a quiet, intimate cleansing that had little to do with desire and everything to do with comfort.
We lingered under the water a few minutes longer, wrapped in each other’s arms. The silence between us was warm, familiar, and for once, there was no need for words. When Anton finally pulled back, he wrapped a towel around me, drying me with such care it almost felt like a promise, as though it was his way of showing me he’d always take care of me, be here for me, just like he promised.
I could barely move without him. When he guided me to the bed, my legs felt unsteady, like I was drifting rather than walking.
Anton settled beside me, pulling me against his chest. His body was solid and warm, anchoring me as exhaustion swept over me like a tidal wave. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this tired, but as I lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of Anton’s breath, a deep, unshakable peace filled me—something I hadn’t known in far too long.
“I need to sleep,” I murmured, my voice thick with fatigue.
“Same here,” he replied softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk. Tonight… we just rest.”
I nodded, letting the rhythm of his breath lull me into a deep, quiet sleep. There was no rush, no expectations—just the calm, comforting certainty of truly being together, after everything we’d been through.
The soft light of morning seeped through the edges of the curtains, wrapping the room in a quiet haze. Anton’s warmth surrounded me, his arm draped over my waist and his breath a steady rhythm against the back of my neck. Exhaustion had claimed us both last night, but even in sleep, he was my anchor.
I shifted slightly, careful not to disturb him, but the soft graze of my thigh against his sent a spark flickering through me. He stirred, murmuring something incoherent before settling again, his body heavy with sleep.
For a moment, I just lay there, watching him. His face was relaxed, the hard edges I’d grown so used to seeing softened in sleep. The weight of everything we’d endured over the last few days seemed to have lifted, replaced by something lighter—something that felt a lot like hope.
I traced my fingers over the curve of his shoulder, marvelling at the strength beneath his skin. He had always been a fighter, always willing to throw himself into the fire for those he loved. And now, he was mine.
The thought sent a heady rush of warmth through me, and before I could second-guess myself, I slipped beneath the covers, my body sliding down the length of his.
Anton’s breathing hitched as my lips brushed against the line of his hip. He was already half-hard, and as I wrapped my hand around him, he twitched in response. A low groan rumbled from his chest, and I couldn’t help but smile as I kissed the sensitive skin just below his navel.
“Marcie…” His voice was thick with sleep, rough and gravelly, but there was no mistaking the edge of desire laced within it.
“Shh,” I murmured, pressing another kiss to the base of his cock. “Let me take care of you.”
His response was a deep, shuddering breath as I took him into my mouth, slow and deliberate, savouring the way he filled me. My tongue traced over him, exploring every ridge and curve as I hollowed my cheeks and drew him deeper.
“Fuck,” Anton hissed, his hips bucking slightly. His hand found its way to my hair, threading through the strands but not guiding me, just holding me as if he needed the connection.
I took my time, letting the rhythm of my movements build until he was fully awake, his muscles taut and his breathing ragged. His moans filled the room, low and unrestrained, and I felt a surge of satisfaction knowing I could undo him like this.
“Marcie, stop,” he ground out, his voice strained. “If you don’t?—”
I pulled back, a playful smile curving my lips. “Don’t you want me to suck you, sir?” I pouted, batting my eyelids and feigning innocence.
His eyes darkened, and before I could react, he moved. In a swift motion, he pulled me up and flipped us over, pinning me beneath him. His body pressed against me, grounding me, and the intensity in his gaze stole my breath.
“You’re going to pay for that sassiness,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine.
I barely had time to process his words before he shifted, his hands gripping my hips as he guided me to straddle his chest. The position left me open and vulnerable, but the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing that mattered—made every shred of self-consciousness fade away.
“Anton,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and need.
His lips curved into a wicked smile, and then he was moving, his hands exploring every inch of me as his mouth found the sensitive skin of the inside of my thighs.
I gasped as his fingers slid between my slick folds, teasing and coaxing until I was trembling beneath him. His touch was both reverent and demanding, a contradiction that left me aching for more. Mr Sexy Soldier didn’t rush, taking his time to unravel me, and by the time his mouth replaced his fingers, I was a mess of whimpers and incoherent pleas.
“Anton, please,” I begged, my hands tangling in his hair as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge.
But he wasn’t quite ready to let me plunge into the abyss yet. Lifting me off him, he turned me to face his feet and then gently pushed my head towards this cock as he pulled my hips back and thrust his tongue into me.
“God, Anton, you taste so good,” I moaned as the salty sweetness coated my tongue.
He didn’t respond with words, but the way he held me, the groans of pleasure and moans of encouragement as we worked each other to a frenzy, told me everything I needed to know. This wasn’t just about pleasure—it was about love, about claiming and being claimed in return.
When I finally shattered, his name was a cry on my lips, and he followed me over the edge moments later, his body tensing beneath mine as he let go.
For a long time, neither of us moved, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath.
“I love you,” Anton murmured, his voice soft but filled with conviction.
I smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I love you too.”