CHAPTER 11
Jaxon
My heart sank as I took in the sight of Anna, curled up on Connor's bed, the pistol clutched in her lap like a lifeline.
Even in sleep, her brow was creased with worry, her lips pressed into a tight line of tension.
Seeing her this vulnerable and afraid sent a pang of sympathy through my chest, followed by a fierce surge of protectiveness.
I wanted to shield her from the horrors that haunted her dreams.
I remembered how she had looked when she arrived at my cabin earlier that day, wearing her fitted jeans and that soft yellow blouse that brought out the warmth in her skin.
The sunlight had played off her blonde hair, creating an almost halo effect that made her blue eyes sparkle.
She had seemed so vibrant then, so full of life and determination, even though she was clearly hesitant about being there.
The contrast to her current state was stark, a painful reminder of the toll fear and trauma could take on even the strongest people.
Now, watching her sleep in the pale glow of moonlight filtering through Connor's window, I saw only vulnerability.
She seemed small, lost in a dreamscape where safety felt elusive.
The urge to gather her in my arms, to offer her the comfort and protection she so desperately needed, was almost overwhelming.
I held back, knowing such an intimate gesture might not be welcome. Especially not from me.
Beside me, Connor sighed, his face marked with fatigue and concern.
The lines around his eyes seemed deeper tonight, carved by exhaustion.
We had spent hours in the woods, searching every inch of the ranch for any sign of Choco or the person who had set him loose.
The search had been exhausting, made all the more urgent by knowing Anna was alone in the house, unprotected.
My mind raced through countless scenarios during the search, each darker than the last, as we combed through the darkness.
The thought of her facing Daniel alone, being at the mercy of that twisted man, pushed me to work harder, to search every shadow and crevice with desperate intensity.
My flashlight beam cut through the blackness, seeking any sign: a broken branch, disturbed leaves, hoof prints in the soft earth.
But just as we began to lose hope, we found Choco, his reins tangled in the branches of an old oak tree at the edge of the property.
The relief that washed over us in that moment was overwhelming, a brief reprieve from the dread that had consumed us.
The horse was agitated, ears pinned back, sides heaving with exertion.
It took us nearly an hour to calm him down and carefully untangle him from the branches without causing injury.
Finally, we were back. But the sense of danger lingered, prickling at the base of my skull like an old combat instinct refusing to be silenced.
Connor carefully checked Choco, his hands gentle but meticulous as he searched for any sign of injury or trauma. I watched with growing impatience, my instincts urging me to return to the house and ensure Anna's safety. Every minute felt like an eternity.
A wave of conflicting emotions hit me: relief, fear, and something deeper I couldn't quite define.
It had been growing inside me ever since she stumbled into my life with those wounded eyes and stubborn determination.
But now wasn't the time to dwell on it, not when Anna's well-being hung in the balance.
"We need to be careful," Connor whispered, his voice low in the quiet room. "We don't want her waking up startled and firing that gun by mistake." His caution was a stark reminder of our precarious situation.
I nodded, understanding the need for care.
I took slow, measured steps toward the bed, my boots silent on the hardwood floor, eyes fixed on Anna's sleeping form.
My heart raced as I reached to touch the gun in her lap, its cold metal a harsh reminder of the danger she'd been hiding from.
The weight of it in my hand was sobering.
Connor's Glock 19, loaded and ready to protect her if needed.
I carefully checked the safety and set it on the nightstand, well out of reach.
I paused, reluctant to disturb her. But she couldn't stay like this, sleeping in her clothes in Connor's bed.
She was still wearing that yellow blouse and jeans from earlier, now wrinkled and dusty, fear etched across her face.
She needed rest, not just exhaustion, but real comfort.
The kind she'd get when she knew Choco was alright.
I knew I had to wake her gently, without triggering an impulsive reaction. I leaned closer, placing a hand on her slender shoulder. The fabric of her blouse was soft beneath my palm, still faintly warm from her body heat.
My voice came softer than intended. "Anna," I said, just loud enough to rouse her. "We're back."
For a moment, no response—no sign she'd heard me.
Then her eyelids fluttered, a soft moan escaping as she stirred from deep sleep.
I watched her come back to herself, saw confusion and fear cloud her eyes as she blinked up at me in the dim light.
Disoriented, terror flashed across her face.
Then her eyes cleared, squinting as she began to sit up.
"Jaxon?" she murmured, voice thick with sleep and uncertainty. "What happened? Where's Choco?" Her questions tumbled out, desperate.
My grip tightened on her shoulder, a silent reassurance. "We found him," I said softly, voice low and steady. "He's safe, Anna. He's back in the barn, and he's going to be fine."
Her eyes filled with tears at my words, a choked sob escaping as she sagged back against the pillows. My heart ached at her relief, watching the tension drain from her like water through a sieve. Her hands covered her face, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"Thank God," she whispered, voice trembling. "I was so scared. I thought... maybe Daniel had found me, that he was out there somewhere, waiting to..." The words caught in her throat, another choked sob breaking free.
She trailed off, unable to finish the thought, but I understood.
I'd seen the fear in her eyes when we'd left my cabin, had sensed the terror that lurked just beneath the surface.
It was a fear that ran deep, a scar carved into her by the cruelty of a man who had once claimed to love her.
The kind of scar I understood all too well.
"I know," I murmured, my thumb rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder through the soft fabric of her blouse. "But you're safe, Anna. We're all safe. And we're going to make sure it stays that way, no matter what." The conviction in my voice surprised even me.
She nodded, her body relaxing just a fraction at my words, but her eyes still held a hint of worry as she looked between me and Connor. "Did you find any evidence that someone was out there?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
I could feel the weight of her question, the intensity of her gaze searching my face for any sign of deception or evasion.
I glanced at Connor, whose expression remained steady and composed as he shook his head.
His rumpled shirt was stained with dirt and sweat from the search, his light brown hair plastered to his forehead.
"No," Connor said, his voice calm and measured. "No tire tracks or footprints, nothing out of place. It could've just been an accident. Maybe the wind knocked something over." The words were meant to soothe, to offer a rational explanation.
I nodded, but my jaw tightened slightly as I spoke.
"Maybe," I said, my tone less convincing than Connor's.
I knew my cabin; every detail was etched in my mind like a tactical map.
The wood hadn't just fallen over on its own.
I'd stacked those logs myself two days ago.
There was no dismissing the nagging sense that something—or someone—had disrupted the calm of the evening.
But even as the words of protest rose to my lips, I bit them back, swallowing the bitter taste of uncertainty. I knew voicing my doubts out loud would only add to Anna's stress and anxiety. She needed reassurance now; not more reason to doubt the safety of her surroundings.
With a sigh, I pushed myself up from the bed, my muscles aching from the toll of the long, difficult night. My back protested. "I'm going to head home," I said, my voice gruff.
Anna rose to her feet, swaying slightly with exhaustion, and her hand reached out to rest on my arm. The warmth of her fingers against my forearm sent a jolt through me.
"Thank you for helping," she said softly, her blue eyes shining with a mix of relief and guilt. "I'm sorry my visit to your place ended up being so chaotic."
I shrugged, my lips twitching in a wry half-smile. "It's fine. Gave me something to do." The words were a deflection, an attempt to lighten the mood. But even as I spoke, I knew the events of the night would stay with me, fueling the insomnia I already struggled with.
Connor stepped forward, clapping me on the shoulder. "Seriously, thanks for bringing Anna back and helping us out. I owe you a couple of beers." There was genuine gratitude in his eyes, and I felt the weight of it, the debt between us that went deeper than simple friendship.
As Anna made her way to her bedroom, her footsteps slow and heavy with exhaustion, Connor and I moved to the front door. He locked it behind me, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the porch with wary intensity. The night felt heavier than usual, as if the air itself held its breath.