I experience a fierce, aching admiration for this female who has spent three years fighting to survive—and never stopped preparing to fight harder. “Show me,” I say.
She raises an eyebrow.
“Show me your stance. Your grip.”
Anna’s lips curve slightly. She ejects the magazine, checks the chamber again—empty—then assumes a shooting stance. Feet shoulder-width apart. Arms extended, slight bend in the elbows. Two-handed grip, firm but not rigid. It’s textbook. Clean. Whoever taught her knew what they were doing.
“Where do you aim?”
“Center mass,” she says without hesitation. “Don’t try for headshots. Don’t try to wound. Center mass, keep shooting until the threat stops.”
I nod slowly. “Good.”
“You sound like you’ve done this before.”
“Six years in the Army. I’ve fired more rounds than I can count.” I pause. “I just prefer not to anymore.”
Her eyes search my face, curious. But she doesn’t push.
“If they come,” I tell her, “and you have to use that—don’t hesitate. These men are professionals. They won’t hesitate either.”
“I know.”
“And Anna.” I wait until her eyes meet mine. “If you shoot one of them, you run. You don’t check if he’s down. You don’t wait to see what happens. You shoot, and you run.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment. Then she nods. “I can do that.”
I believe her.
Finally,we move to escape routes. I lead her to the back window and show her the latch, how to open it silently.
“If I tell you to run, you go out this window,” I say. “Don’t hesitate. Don’t look back.”
I’m standing close behind her as she practices the latch. Too close. My breath moves the short hair at the nape of her neck and I watch goosebumps rise on her skin.
“There’s a path through the forest.” My voice is low, barely above a murmur. “Fifty yards straight back, then turn left at the boulder with the split top. Follow the creek downstream. It leads to the main commune.”
She turns the latch, opens the window and closes it. Again. Again. Memorizing the motion with her body. Then she pauses and looks up at me. “What if you can’t follow me?” she asks quietly.
“Then you keep running. You find Kelt, find my parents. They’ll protect you.”
“Keric—”
“Promise me, Anna.”
She’s silent for a moment. “I promise.”
I step back before I do something stupid, like pull her against me and claim her mouth the way I’ve been dying to do for days.
We stand in the dim light of the bedroom, both breathing harder than the training warrants. The tension between us is a living thing, coiling tighter with every moment we spend in close quarters.
Anna turns to face me fully. Her glasses catch the afternoon light coming through the window. Those dark eyes hold mine without flinching. “You really think they’ll come?”
I hold her gaze. “I think they’ll try.” A beat of silence. My hands ache to touch her and my chest burns with the need to close the distance between us, to pull her into my arms and show her exactly what she means to me. Instead, I let my voice drop lower. “I also think they’ll fail. Because I won’t let anyone take you from me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Anna
