The cave had become suffocating. The dripping water, the smell of damp stone, the tension in the air—it pressed down on Cross until every muscle in his body screamed to move. Sitting still meant waiting to die.
Reyes was drifting in and out of consciousness, pain carving deep lines into his face. Cross tightened the tourniquet and checked the bleeding again. Stable, for now. But they couldn't stay here. Not with Kane's men sweeping the jungle.
He rose to his feet, rifle slung across his chest, and looked at Elena. She was crouched over the map she'd spread across the cave floor, her finger tracing lines through valleys and ridges.
"There's an old supply station here," she said, tapping a spot near the edge of the river. "Abandoned for years, but Kane uses it as a forward post. If we reach it, we can steal transport and get out of this jungle."
Cross didn't move closer. He didn't lower his weapon. His eyes narrowed. "You want me to just trust you?"
Elena lifted her gaze slowly, meeting his glare without blinking. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have dragged you into this cave."
"That's not an answer."
Her expression hardened. "You're alive because I put a bullet in the men hunting you. That should be answer enough."
Cross paced a few steps, anger bubbling inside him. Every instinct screamed not to trust her. She admitted working with Kane. She knew things no outsider should know. And yet, without her, they were blind in a jungle swarming with killers.
Reyes groaned again, snapping Cross out of his thoughts. Time wasn't on their side.
Finally, Cross exhaled through gritted teeth. "Fine. But if you try anything—if I even think you're leading us into a trap—I'll put you down myself."
A flicker of a smile touched Elena's lips. "Fair enough."
---
They left the cave under cover of darkness. The jungle was alive with its usual chorus—frogs, crickets, the distant call of night birds—but beneath it all was another rhythm: the steady, searching footsteps of men hunting them.
Cross took point, rifle raised, every sense sharpened. Elena moved just behind him, silent as a shadow. Reyes hobbled between them, leaning on a makeshift crutch.
They hadn't gone far before Cross's instincts prickled. Something was wrong. He raised his fist, signaling halt.
The ground ahead looked disturbed—leaves scattered unnaturally, soil darker in patches. Too neat. Too deliberate.
"Minefield," Cross muttered.
Elena crouched, scanning the ground with sharp eyes. "Tripwires. Classic Legion tactic." She pulled a knife and began cutting a safe path, motioning them to follow.
Cross studied her every move, but he couldn't deny her skill. Whoever she was, she wasn't lying about her past. She'd walked through traps like these before.
They edged forward carefully. Every step was a gamble, every breath shallow. Then—
Snap.
A branch gave way under Reyes's weight. Cross's stomach dropped.
"Down!" he shouted, tackling Reyes to the ground as a grenade trap detonated. The explosion tore through the jungle, fire lighting the night. Shrapnel ripped past, embedding in trees with a metallic scream.
The blast threw them apart. Cross slammed into the dirt, ears ringing, lungs burning. He forced himself up, rifle ready. Through the haze of smoke, masked soldiers emerged, weapons raised.
The Black Legion had been waiting.