Claire nodded, though her thoughts were still on the warehouse. Clarke's men had been relentless, but what worried her more was Clarke himself. He was determined—obsessed, even—and that made him unpredictable. She had seen the look in his eyes when he confronted Anthony. He wasn't just after money or control; this was personal.
She glanced at Anthony in the back seat. His head was resting against the window, eyes half-closed, the weight of exhaustion and pain clear on his face. The wound on his side had reopened, and the color had drained from his skin. Claire reached back, her fingers brushing against his arm.
"Stay with me, Anthony," she whispered. "We're almost there."
Anthony opened his eyes, meeting hers for a brief moment. There was a mix of fear and determination in his gaze, but he managed a faint nod. Claire turned her attention back to Jake, who was grimacing in pain but still alert.
