Mia sagged forward, burying her face in his fur as sobs finally tore loose. Ranger stayed where he was, solid and unmoving, his weight anchoring her.
She was alive. Barely steady. Hurting. Terrified.
But alive.
The sound of engines reached her moments later.
Doors slammed. Voices shouted her name.
Caleb burst through the barn door and dropped to his knees in front of her, hands shaking as he checked her face, her arms, her sides.
“She’s gone,” Mia whispered.
Caleb pulled her into his chest, holding her tight. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the feeling of her alive in his arms.
Outside, boots pounded into the woods.
Caleb’s hand found Ranger’s collar. His grip tightened, holding him back for a heartbeat, then he released him.
The memory flashed. Blood, chaos, the cost of letting go.
Not him. Not again. Not another dog.
He met the dog’s eyes, forced himself to let go and nodded once.
“Go.”
CHAPTER 57
The woods closed in.Even the birds had stopped chirping.
Dana ran hard, the only sound her ragged breath tearing in and out of her chest. Branches lashed at her arms. Thorns ripped at her clothes and skin. Her leg screamed with every step. The memory of the dog’s teeth where they’d torn skin was still burning hot beneath the pain. God, she hated dogs.
She didn’t scream. Didn’t look back. She still had a chance, as long as that damn dog wasn’t chasing her.
Behind her, voices cut through the trees. Calm. Precise. The sharp, disciplined movement of men who didn’t charge in blindly.
That was worse than shouting.
Men who didn’t panic didn’t make mistakes. They didn’t rush. They closed nets.
Her car was close. It had to be. She could make it. Then she’d drive somewhere nobody could find her and wait it out. Heal. Regroup. She wasn’t done with Mia Whitmore. Not even close.
She crashed through the undergrowth, fueled by adrenaline. She could do this. Shewasdoing this.
Then her foot caught.
She slammed onto the ground, the impact driving the air from her lungs. For a second, there was nothing. No sound. No breath.
A scream tore out of her before she could stop it.
She gasped, sucking air back in. The pain was overwhelming. She told herself to embrace it, to ignore it. Pain was temporary. Pain could be survived.
She pushed up, made it two steps. Then her leg gave out.
Another scream ripped free as she clawed at a tree, nails scraping bark, and slid down to one knee. Her breath came fast and shallow now, panic crawling up her spine.
Damn it.
