The night lit up like hell's own lantern. Flames licked across the underbrush where the grenade had gone off, smoke curling through the trees. Cross's ears rang with the sharp sting of the blast, but the shadows moving through the fire told him everything he needed to know.
The Black Legion was here.
Shapes emerged—men in black combat gear, rifles raised, masks hiding their faces. They moved in perfect formation, cutting through the smoke with the precision of wolves closing on prey.
Cross snapped his rifle to his shoulder and fired. The first Legionnaire dropped, sparks bursting from his chest plate. "Contact front!" he roared, voice hoarse.
Elena was already moving, pistol in one hand, knife in the other. She ducked low, rolled through the brush, and came up behind one soldier, slamming her blade under his arm before firing point-blank into another. She didn't hesitate, didn't flinch. Efficient. Lethal.
Reyes crawled to cover behind a fallen log, teeth gritted against the pain in his leg. He raised his rifle, shaky but determined, and laid down suppressive fire. "Go, Sarge! I've got you covered!"
Bullets tore through the trees, sparks raining from metal as Cross shifted position. He dropped two more men, but for every one that fell, another seemed to appear from the dark. The air was thick with gunpowder and burning leaves.
A burst of fire stitched across the ground inches from his boots. Cross dove, rolling into a crouch. He spotted a Legionnaire creeping up behind Reyes, rifle aimed.
"Reyes, down!" Cross bellowed, firing three rounds. The soldier crumpled before he could pull the trigger.
But the Legion kept coming.
Suddenly Elena shouted, "Grenade!" She snatched a frag from her belt and hurled it into the advancing line. The explosion ripped through the night, tearing men apart, silencing the forest in a deafening roar.
Cross used the moment. "Move!" he barked, hauling Reyes up by the arm. Elena fell in beside them, covering their retreat with blistering accuracy.
They stumbled through the flaming trees, every step a gamble. Cross's lungs burned with smoke, his ears full of shouts and gunfire. The jungle was no longer cover—it was a killing field.
They broke into a small clearing, moonlight spilling across an abandoned hut half-swallowed by vines. Cross dragged Reyes inside, kicking the rotted door shut. Elena slammed a beam across it, breath quick but steady.
Outside, the Legion regrouped. Voices barked orders. Boots crunched leaves.
Cross pressed his back to the wall, rifle ready, sweat stinging his eyes. "They're not stopping," he muttered. "They'll burn this whole jungle to ash if they have to."
Elena reloaded, eyes sharp in the dim light. "Then we don't wait for them."
Cross glanced at her. "You have a plan?"
She gave him that same faint, unreadable smile. "I always have a plan."