𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 87: 𝐈𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°

She stared at the bodies a moment longer, then sagged against him in relief. In the darkness, blood looked like shadow and she didn’t know the difference and was too exhausted to question it.

Antonio scooped her up carefully —one arm under her knees, the other cradling her back. She weighed nothing.

“Hold on to me,” he whispered.

She did, arms looping around his neck, face tucked into the curve of his throat.

Behind them, Slime’s shallow breathing gurgled, and Breanna's net closed in faster.

He carried her south through the pines, careful of the bruise blooming across her ribs where his elbow had caught her in the dark. Though guilt sat heavy in his chest, he buried it deep. There would be time for apologies later— when he figured out how to get them out safely.

The abandoned hunting cabin finally faced them five minutes later, a squat silhouette against the treeline.

He shifted her weight to one arm, thumbed the biometric lock, and shouldered the door open. Inside smelled of old woodsmoke and pine resin.

He clicked a single battery lantern on and carried her straight to the narrow cot in the corner. She winced as her torn feet touched the coarse fabric.

With the torch of his phone, he cross examined her damage: shredded soles, wrists raw from zip ties and when he undid her bathrobe, she had nothing else on, he overlooked it and faced her blood crusted ribs.

“Stay still.” he knelt and pulled the small med kit from under the cot.

He worked in silence, cleaning the cuts and wrapping her feet. Afterward he pressed a cold towel to her bruised ribs, the only available remedy.

She watched him through heavy lids. This was the same man who coldly suggested they end things yesterday. Now he tended her like something precious.

“Judging by how much your mere punch hurts,” she murmured, “are you sure those men are just… unconscious?”

“They won’t be following us tonight,” Antonio answered, not looking up from bandaging her ankle. “That’s all that matters.”

She didn’t press, instead she reached out— fingers brushing his cheek. “Thank you for coming for me.”

He caught her hand, removed it from his jaw with careful firmness. It was too soothing. “Sleep”

Outside, the wind shifted, the thrum of drone rotors echoed— Antonio stood, moved to the narrow window, and scanned the dark tree line.

Nevena’s voice floated softly behind him. “What’s happening outside? Did they bring more henchmen?”

He turned back, “I’ve got the watch. Worry not about a thing.”

She nodded and let her head sink back against the cot, fingers curled loosely in the duvet

He tapped his phone's screen alive and skimmed through Grinch's text. Unhesitatingly he killed the lantern, plunging the room into darkness.

In the sudden black, Nevena's eyes searched for comfort, glassy with unshed tears and fear, her breathing raspy — breaking further than the latter.

Antonio felt the rhythm and he returned to the cot, sat on the edge.

Her hand found his in the dark, fingers threading through his with quiet insistence.

“Please on the light, I was so scared,” she whispered, voice barely more than breath. His thumb traced slow circles over her knuckles, the only part of her he dared touch too firmly.

“You don't have to be,” he murmured, gathering her carefully. She came willingly, curling into him, the blanket rustling softly.

“Hold me until the sun comes. That’s enough.” Her trust was absolute.

Antonio breathing evened out and he eased down beside her, careful not to jar her injuries. He pulled her gently into the circle of his arms—her back to his chest, his hand splayed protectively over her stomach.

She fit against him perfectly, head tucked beneath his chin, legs tangled with his.

Minutes stretched into hours but he stayed the same, awake, eyes on the door, hand resting on the Glock at his hip and the other on her hip.

When he checked his phone it was 4:15AM, instinctively he knew their comfortability was danger.

“Nina,” he murmured against her hair. “Wake up.”

She stirred groggily, mumbled, and went back to snoring.

Antonio slipped free and utilized the opportunity to retrieve his loaded Glock taped under the table.

Next he stepped outside and returned with survival menace, He made straight to the makeshift wardrobe and yanked at the cloth there. A brown cargo pants and a black T-shirt.

He returned to her and removed the bathrobe she had on from yesterday, and changed her into his own pairs. She fully opened her eyes when she felt a hand on her chest.

“Good morning”

“Morning,” he acknowledged, standing. “We're leaving.”

Before she could counter him, he was already at the door waiting. She didn't pounder much, she set her legs down with a soft wince and limped towards him.

Antonio waited while she passed, he needn't no doctor to tell him that she was in pain. He closed the door and walked before her, kneeling with his back turned to her.

“Thank you”

He made sure to secure her thighs around his waist, her arms around his neck, before he started walking.

The forest was still ink-black, but the thin moon barely brushed silver across the canopy.

They didn't say a word for a long time, just the wind sighing through branches like it approved of the silence.

“Is it still far away?” Nevena asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Yes” he breathed.

“Mr Hunt. This forest looks like it's never ending. Don't you think it's time we dial the emergency?”

“It will complicate things more”

“Why do you say so?” she tipped her head from above to see his face.

He didn’t answer. Instead he shifted her weight higher, adjusted his grip, and kept moving south, hoping to reach Santa Fe Forest before the first gray of dawn hits.

---------

Meanwhile, Breanna's reinforcement caught up with the rest of the team where they camped, and they continued their search.

“Where does Darkota lead to?” Breanna asked the navigator with them.

“Sangre de Cristo”

“And where did the drones last spot him”.

“Dakota North,” the man replied. “He seems to be heading toward Otowi's bridge”

Breanna exhaled deeply, it was at a point like this that Sophia service comes in handy.

“Otowi Bridge,” she repeated, staring towards the mountains of Sangre de Cristo, barely visible from Darkota. “Did you bring the dirt bikes? Foot pursuit will take forever.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lowell stepped forward, dangling a ring of keys. “Stashed just off the track road.”

Breanna arcs her brow in confusion. “I thought you were shot?”

“It got better” He flexed his arm, though it was sore. “Besides—I’m not missing the finish line. We earned this.”

“Let's go then” she urged the team. “Two heads per motorbike. Tight formation.”

Engines snarled to life. The team mounted up and peeled out into the dark, dust and pine needles swirling in their wake.