Page 27 of Hero's Heart

Smoke stung Sloane’s eyes as she stumbled through the dark tunnel, her heart pounding. The chaos of shouting and gunfire echoed behind her, but she couldn’t see Marissa or the guy who’d been leading them—Theo,was that his name? She couldn’t remember—in the darkness.

“Marissa!” Sloane called out, her voice hoarse. No response.

She tripped on something in the darkness again, sprawling onto the rough ground. Pain shot through her palms and knees. As she pushed herself up, a memory flashed—a hand on her back, shoving hard when Sloane had fallen the first time a few minutes ago.

But surely she’d imagined that. Even Marissa wouldn’t have deliberately knocked Sloane down and left her behind.

Right?

She shook her head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. She had to keep moving. Catch up to wherever everyone had gone.

Coughing from the thickening smoke, she staggered forward. Light glimmered ahead—the tunnel’s exit. Hope surged through her as she broke into a stumbling run.

Maybe they’d just gotten separated. Marissa would tell Callum and the others that Sloane was still coming. They’d be waiting for her right outside, maybe even on their way back to get her.

She burst out into the cool night air, gulping it gratefully. But her relief was short-lived as she took in the scene before her.

In the distance, she could see a car speeding away, no headlights on. That had to be them.

“Wait!” she screamed, waving her arms frantically. But the car disappeared into the darkness without slowing at all. Sloane stood frozen, disbelief washing over her.

They’d left without her.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, her mind reeling. Had Marissa deliberately pushed her down, ensuring her own escape while leaving Sloane behind?

It was one thing to treat Sloane like her personal indentured servant, another thing entirely to leave her for dead with kidnappers.

Surely it had all been a terrible misunderstanding in the chaos. Maybe Marissa thought Sloane was right behind her the whole time.

A shout from nearby snapped Sloane back to her current hell. She was still in danger, alone and exposed. Whatever had happened with Marissa, she couldn’t dwell on it now.

She was on her own, just as she always had been.

Sloane’s heart raced as she scanned her surroundings. She was in some sort of compound with a bunch of small buildings—they looked to be barns or something similar. She could make out two houses, both with lights on in the windows.

Armed guards were shouting and running in all directions, at least a dozen of them. Smoke still billowed from the tunnel entrance, providing her some cover, but she needed to get out of there.

But go where? She had no idea where she was. Was she still in France? This definitely wasn’t Paris.

A fence ran along the property about fifty yards away. Beyond it lay darkness—and potential freedom. But getting there meant crossing open ground. She didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave the safety of the shadows.

She pushed her shoulders back. She had to. It was now or never.

She crouched low and darted toward the nearest building, pressing her back against its rough concrete wall. The shouts seemed to be moving away from her position.

Just like hide-and-seek.She clenched and unclenched her fists to try to stop her hands from shaking.

Except with much higher stakes.

Sloane inched along the wall, her muscles tense, ready to sprint at any moment. She reached the corner and peered around it, assessing the next stretch of open space.

A guard suddenly appeared in her peripheral vision. Sloane jerked back, holding her breath. Had he seen her?

“Hey!” the guard called out. “Check the east perimeter!”

East… Was that her direction? She had no idea. Her heart threw itself against her ribs as she waited. But the footsteps receded as the guard moved on.

She exhaled shakily. It was almost impossible to make herself move. Terror rooted her to the spot. She fought the urge to slide down the wall and cover her head with her arms.

---