Chapter 28

Max’s POV

Sabotage.

That was the only explanation for everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. My missing passport. My stolen phone. The conveniently sabotaged bus. Someone was pulling strings to make sure I didn’t make it home today.

Which meant I had to be smarter than whoever was playing this game.

The driver had told everyone to stay inside for the night. “Best to just sit tight,” he had said. “No sense in wandering around in the middle of nowhere. We’ll get a mechanic out first thing in the morning.”

And so, one by one, the passengers had settled in though many complaints emerged at first. The lights were dimmed, and people curled into their seats, using jackets and bags as makeshift pillows.

The hum of low whispers faded into soft snores.

I wasn’t planning on sleeping.

Instead, I leaned back, watching the darkness outside. Every instinct in me screamed that staying here was a bad idea, but I didn’t have a better alternative—at least not yet.

“Excuse me,” a voice purred beside me.

I turned my head slightly, my eyes narrowing at the woman who had taken the seat next to mine. She had wavy, auburn hair, dark lipstick, and an expression that said she was either bored or looking for trouble.

“You are Maxwell Hollandale, right?” she asked, tilting her head.

I sighed internally. “Depends on who’s asking.”

She giggled, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Let’s just say... a very big fan.”

Wonderful. Just what I needed.

“Yeah, well, I’m just a guy stuck on a bus,” I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

She leaned closer. “Oh, come on. You don’t have to be so formal with me. What are the chances I’d end up next to you?”

“Considering my luck today? Pretty damn high.”

She laughed again, but this time, her hand landed on my thigh.

I stiffened.

“What are you doing?” I asked flatly.

Her fingers traced small circles against my jeans.

“Relax,” she whispered. “No one’s watching.”

I exhaled sharply, grabbed her wrist, and gently moved her hand back to her own lap. “Not interested.”

She pouted. “Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Her face twisted slightly in annoyance, but she forced another smile. “Fine. But if you change your mind—”

“I won’t.”

She huffed, then dramatically grabbed her bag and moved to another seat, muttering something about me being a “cold bastard.”

I let out a breath, shifting in my seat. The last thing I needed was to deal with some overly eager woman trying to turn this nightmare into a cheap romance novel.

But my brief moment of peace didn’t last long.

A movement outside caught my eye.

I turned toward the window, narrowing my gaze. At first, I thought it was just the wind kicking up dust, but then I saw it—shadows.

They weren’t random. They were people.

Moving.

Fast.

My stomach clenched.

This isn’t random.

I sat up straighter, scanning the area outside. The figures moved low, barely visible against the sand and rock formations. Whoever they were, they were hiding.

And they were getting closer.

I exhaled slowly. I needed to act before the rest of the passengers woke up to a very unpleasant surprise.

I stood and quietly made my way to the front of the bus. The driver was already half-asleep, his cap pulled low over his eyes.

“Hey,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder.

He grunted. “What now?”

“We have company,” I muttered, nodding toward the window.

He blinked blearily, sitting up and following my gaze. “You sure?”

I gave him a deadpan look. “No, I just like waking people up for no reason.”

The driver frowned and squinted outside. His face paled slightly. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “That about sums it up.”

“What do we do?” he whispered.

I glanced back at the sleeping passengers. Waking them up and panicking was not the best idea.

“I’ll handle it,” I said, my voice calm. “You just keep everyone inside.”

Before he could argue, I slipped out of the bus, moving as quietly as possible.

The second my feet hit the dirt, my senses went into overdrive.

I scanned the area. The shadows had stopped moving. They knew someone had noticed them.

I took a step forward. “Alright,” I muttered to myself. “Let’s see what kind of trouble you are.”

Then—

A snap of movement.

A figure lunged from the darkness.

I barely dodged, rolling to the side as a knife slashed through the air where I had been standing.

Oh, great. Armed attackers.

I shot to my feet, blocking another swing from the man who had attacked me. He was fast, but I was faster. I twisted his arm, forcing him to drop the knife.

“Not today,” I muttered, landing a sharp elbow to his ribs.

The man groaned, stumbling back.

That’s when I realized—there were more of them.

At least five, moving toward me with practiced precision.

Shit.

I ran.

Not because I was scared—okay, maybe a little—but because fighting off a group of men with knives in the middle of the desert was not on my wedding itinerary.

I sprinted toward the hills, my heart pounding as the sand beneath my feet made running hell. The wind howled, kicking up dust, making visibility even worse.

I glanced over my shoulder. They were gaining.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I pushed harder, veering toward an uneven part of the terrain where rocks jutted from the sand. If I could lose them in the terrain, I might have a shot.

I climbed up, my fingers gripping the jagged edges.

Just as I reached the top—

A hand grabbed my ankle.

I twisted violently, kicking out with all my strength. My boot connected with a face, and the man let out a pained grunt, losing his grip.

I didn’t wait. I scrambled up and over the rocks, practically throwing myself down the other side.

I tumbled, landing hard. Pain shot through my shoulder, but I pushed myself up, panting.

Silence.