Page 33 of Hero's Heart

A shadow lunged at him, and suddenly, Callum was on the ground, grappling with a hulking brute of a man. The guy’s knife flashed in the dim light, slashing toward Callum’s throat. Callum twisted, the blade slicing his arm instead. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t let it slow him down.

Fuck if he wasn’t collecting scars on this mission.

“Sloane, run!” he barked, his voice rough with effort as the man continued to stab at him.

She didn’t move. She stood frozen, her eyes wide with horror. She was done—her mind had shut down to protect itself.

Fuck.

Callum landed a punch to the huge man’s jaw, but the mercenary barely flinched. Callum tackled him to get them as far from Sloane as he could, but that put them dangerously close to the edge of the steep hillside, the rain making the ground slick and unstable.

The fight was brutal, raw. Callum was reaching the ends of his own reserves. The guard definitely had the upper hand—younger, bigger, not as exhausted.

And cocky. Callum could see it in his eyes. The guy knew he was going to win this fight. All he had to do was wear Callum down a little more and wait for Callum to make an error.

Callum gritted his teeth, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. Instead of coming in for another round of punching, he shoved the man with all his might, sending him teetering toward the steep edge. Callum managed one last push, divingout of the way as the other man stumbled back. The mercenary’s eyes widened in shock as he fell, unable to do anything about it. His scream—already mostly drowned out by the storm—was cut short by the darkness below.

Callum staggered back, his chest heaving. Blood dripped from his arm, but he barely noticed. His focus was on Sloane, who stood rooted to the spot, her face pale and wan.

“It’s over,” he said, his voice softer now. “He’s gone.”

Her knees buckled, and Callum caught her and pulled her against him before she hit the ground.

“Hey,” he said gently, leading her back to the cave. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She didn’t respond, her body trembling violently. Leaving her at the entrance of the cave, Callum grabbed a stick and wandered into the tiny crevice, using it to scare away any critters that might have the same idea about getting dry and warm. When it was cleared, he led her inside, helping her ease down to sit on the ground.

She still hadn’t said a word. Her eyes were blank.

“Here,” he said, digging into his vest and pulling out a mostly crushed ration bar. It tasted like shit but would get some calories into her system. She needed them. He pressed it into her hands. “Eat this.”

She stared at it blankly, so he unwrapped it himself and began feeding her pieces like she was a baby bird.

A few bites were all she could manage before she turned her head to the side. Callum decided not to push it. Her body sagged against the cave wall, her head resting on the cool stone. Within minutes, her breathing evened out, and she was asleep.

He wasn’t surprised. Her mind was protecting her the best way it could, and sleep would do her the most good overall.

Callum stayed awake, his back against the cave entrance. His eyes scanned the forest, his ears tuned to every sound. The rain fell in a steady rhythm, masking their presence.

He glanced back at Sloane, her face soft in sleep. She looked fragile, but he knew better. She’d survived this long, and he’d make sure she kept surviving.

No matter what it took.

Chapter 12

Sloane didn’t remember closing her eyes, but she didn’t want to open them again when Callum shook her awake what felt like seconds later.

Opening her eyes meant returning to the nightmare.

Opening her eyes meant she might find herself tied to a chair with Nikola touching her again.

Opening her eyes meant people were chasing her.

“I know you’re tired, angel, but we can’t stay here. We have to keep moving.”

Angel.

She forced her eyes open to find Callum crouched in front of her. She just wanted to keep staring at his face with its rugged charm—a strong, chiseled jawline dusted with salt-and-pepper stubble that hinted at a life hard-lived. Warm brown eyes, shadowed by thick brows. A faint scar grazed his temple, adding character to his sun-bronzed skin.

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