SEVEN

I didn't stop praying silently . Not even when the car dove through the woods, the trees flashing by like a blur. Wesley's grip on the wheel tightened as the engine roared, barely missing branches that seemed to reach out to snatch us. He didn’t speak, his jaw clenched, eyes focused on the path ahead, as though the danger behind us could somehow be outrun.

I kept my eyes forward, knowing it was useless to look back. Marco’s men were on our trail, getting closer every minute.

The car finally came to a screeching halt in a small clearing. The night stars and the bright moon offered the perfect lighting while the headlights of Wesley's car continued to shine deeper into the trees.

"Get out," Wesley said suddenly, his voice sharp. "We need to move."

I didn’t ask why, I just followed him as he stumbled out of the car off and headed to my door. He yanked it open and I fell out, feeling my throat close for some reason.

Wesley reached into the back seat, pulling out a bag and rummaging through it. I didn’t know what he was looking for, but I had a sinking feeling that I wasn’t going to like it.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He gave no reply.

I stood back, watching him without saying a word, and then he came out with what I know after years of being with Marco to be an explosive device.

I swallowed. It's a bomb.

“Wesley...” I repeated, my stomach tightening. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Buying us time,” he muttered, already turning to the car. His hands worked quickly, setting the bomb into place. He didn’t even look at me as he did it.

I swallowed, the weight of everything pressing down on me. This was real. The danger, the chase, the whole mess. We weren’t just running from Marco anymore. We were running toward something much bigger.

“Catrina, get to the tree line,” Wesley ordered, looking over at me as he held the bomb in his hands. “Now.”

I didn’t hesitate. The way he said it told me there was no time to argue. I sprinted toward the trees, my heart thumping in my chest. I could hear the sound of engines getting closer. They were almost here.

Wesley came up beside me, moving faster now, but not enough to outrun the sound of Marco’s men. He didn’t look at me, his eyes set on the direction they’d be coming from.

The cars grew even closer and I could see them stop right by Wesley's car, unaware of the surprise waiting for them. I swallowed, watching the men get out of their SUVs and approach Wesley's car.

And then, the blast.

The explosion hit with a deafening roar, followed by a blinding flash of light. I barely managed to shield my face before the shockwave hit, knocking me off my feet. The ground shook beneath me as firelight lit up the trees, the car a fiery inferno that consumed everything.

I couldn’t breathe for a second. My heart hammered in my chest, and it wasn’t just from the adrenaline. Wesley had gone down beside me, shielding me with his body as the heat from the explosion licked at our skin.

When the sound of the blast finally faded, I pulled myself to my feet, still reeling from the shock. The smoke from the explosion lingered in the air, a haze that made everything look distant and unreal. Wesley's arms were still around me and almost immediately, he seemed to recognize that fact as well.

He took his hands off me and stood up, a grim expression on his face. He didn’t seem bothered by the explosion at all. But as he rose, something caught my eye.

His shirt had torn, a jagged wound across his side, blood already beginning to seep through the fabric. He must've gotten snagged by a tree branch when he was trying to escape the explosion.

“Wesley,” I said, staring at him. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice low, dismissive. But I wasn’t going to let it slide.

“No, it’s not. Let me help,” I insisted, grabbing his arm before he could take another step.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable for a second before he yanked his arm away from me. “ I said I’ll be fine,” he repeated.

I wasn’t having it. “There’s a first aid kit in the car, but—” I stopped myself, realizing what had happened to it. The explosion had taken care of that. “We don’t have time to argue about this.”

"Exactly." He continued, staring at me with the same look. The one I'd known all too well over the years. The look of my husband's rival.

“If this fake marriage is going to work, you need to listen to me,” I said, firm. I wasn’t sure why I said it like that, but it felt true. "Now I've dressed a lot of wounds so I know that blood's going nowhere anytime soon. Are you going to let me take care of that or you're going to be so stubborn that you decide to bleed to death?"

He eyed me for a moment, and then, with a resigned grunt, he pulled off his shirt.

I tried not to stare, but the sight of him standing there, his sweaty body and the bruises from the battle earlier, caught me off guard. I focused on the wound, the deep cut along his ribs, but my mind kept drifting. The sight of his body, the way his muscles flexed in the moonlight. Something about the sight made me feel a strange pull toward him.

"Here you go." He said, handing his shirt to me, snapping me back to the present.

I took his shirt, tied it tightly around his ribs, trying to ignore how close we were. My hands were shaking, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the explosion, the danger, or something else entirely. I could smell his cologne up close—feel the heat from his bare skin. I could see him.

When I finished, I stepped back, my heart still hammering. “Is it better?” I asked quietly, unsure what else to say.

“It’ll do,” he said, looking down at the makeshift bandage. Then, his gaze turned hard, back to the woods.

I followed his gaze, feeling the weight of the situation settle heavily on me. We had no plan. No time. And yet, we were still standing here, still caught in this mess that neither of us had chosen.

“Now what?” I asked, feeling a sense of helplessness creeping in.

Wesley didn’t hesitate. His jaw clenched, his expression colder than ever.

“Now we get out of here.”