Page 31 of Hero's Heart

They kept to the shadows as much as possible, but speed was more important now than stealth. Dawn would be coming in a couple of hours, and once they lost the cover of night, things would get even more difficult if they hadn’t gotten away from the Kozaks’ men.

Callum led them south—the opposite direction Bear and Theo had taken Marissa. As soon as he was able, he would call his friends and have them come get Sloane and him once they got Marissa to the drop point.

But for at least twenty-four hours, he and Sloane were on their own.

He got them past the run-down barn and into the trees. For a moment, he thought they’d made it out undetected, but then yells coming from the farm and heading in their direction proved him wrong. At least now, they had the cover of trees and wilderness around them.

He tightened his grip on Sloane’s hand, pulling her along behind him. Her small fingers trembled in his; she was already struggling.

“Stay with me,” he said, his voice low but firm. He glanced back briefly, his sharp gaze meeting hers. Her face was pale, streaked with grime, her lips pressed tightly together to keep from crying out. She nodded mutely, her eyes wide with a terror she couldn’t mask.

She’d been through hell—that much was obvious. Her dress was barely hanging on her body, and both the heels of her shoes had already broken off, which at least made for faster running. Her hair was matted, and the haunted look in her eyes told him she was reliving the nightmare she’d just left behind her.

Callum didn’t know her beyond her name, but he didn’t need to. She was his responsibility now, and he’d get her out of this alive.

If she couldn’t keep up, he’d carry her. If they were cornered, he’d fight. And if he had to, he’d die to safeguard her.

He didn’t even question this protective instinct she brought out in him. Maybe being back in the field—pushing himself so hard and coming so close to death—was causing it, but it didn’t matter. He was not letting anyone hurt this woman again.

“Where are we going?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, each word laced with exhaustion.

“Anywhere but here.” He kept his tone steady, hoping it would anchor her. “We need to put more distance between us and them.”

Behind them, faint shouts echoed through the trees. The guards were still on their trail, and they were relentless. Callum had clocked at least a dozen of them when they’d escaped the compound. Again, maybe not professionals, but there were more of them, and they were better armed.

The terrain ahead sloped upward, the forest thickening into a tangle of roots and underbrush. Callum picked the path with care, choosing routes that would slow their pursuers. He mentally mapped their progress, calculating fallback points and potential hiding spots. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all they had.

Sloane stumbled behind him, her foot catching on a root. Callum stopped immediately, his arm shooting out to steady her before she could hit the ground.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her breath hitching. She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I’m slowing us down.”

“You’re doing fine. Better than most people would.” He couldn’t even imagine what Marissa would be like in the same setting.

He glanced over Sloane, scanning for any injuries she might be hiding. Aside from the scratches on her arms and the smudges of dirt on her face, she seemed intact. Physically, at least. But her trembling hands and the way she kept looking over her shoulder told him she was holding on by a thread.

Callum crouched slightly to meet her gaze. He knew they had to keep moving, but if she couldn’t keep it together, they were going to be in big trouble. The chances of them making it out of this alive reduced drastically if he had to knock her out cold and carry her.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but intense. “I know you’re tired. I know you’re scared. And hell, I know you don’t even know me. But I need you to trust me, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Okay.” Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded. “What’s your last name?”

“Webb. Callum Webb.”

That seemed to give her something she needed. She nodded. “Okay.”

He gave her a curt nod and straightened. “Good. Let’s keep moving.”

They pressed on. The air was heavy, damp with the promise of rain in the forest around them. The first drops began to fall as they reached a narrow clearing, the patter of water on leaves masking their footsteps.

“Rain’s good,” Callum muttered, more to himself than her. “Covers our tracks.”

Sloane didn’t respond, but he could hear her labored breathing behind him. He slowed his pace slightly, matching hers without making it obvious. The balance was tricky. He needed her to push as much as she could, but not so much her body gave out on her.

After another mile, he caught the faintest sound—the crackle of a radio. The Kozaks’ men were closer than he’d thought but had finally gotten smart and were being quiet, stopping all the yelling. Callum froze, holding up a hand to stop Sloane. She nearly bumped into him, her small gasp loud in the stillness.

“What is it?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

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