Running away almost never ended well. But what other choice did you have? Your team had been ambushed, and the captain had ran after you. Screw being a team player. You’d much rather come out the other side actually alive.

You grunted as MacTavish slammed into you, wheezing out a breath as you weakly pawed at his wrists. He squeezed your throat, glaring down at you in annoyance.

He was big. A practical bear keeping you roughly pinned in the dirt.

“Make this easy fer me,” he murmured, squeezing a bit tighter as you tried to buck him off, “else I’ll break this pretty neck o’yers.”