✦ ─── [JACK POV] ─── ✦
I was on the compound's north wall, watching the jungle, when the radio crackled to life.
One of the Elder's men was carrying it—salvaged from the hunters' gear. We'd been monitoring their frequency since the helicopters landed.
Static. Then a voice. Young. Male. Familiar.
"Jack… it's David. I need to talk. Please. I have information. About the soldiers. About what they're planning. I… I can help you. Just… answer me."
I didn't move.
The tribesman holding the radio looked at me.
I held out my hand. He passed it over.
Pressed the button.
"David."
Silence on the other end. Then:
"Jack. I know you don't trust me. But I'm offering a trade. Intel for extraction. That's it."
I looked at the Elder, standing beside me on the wall. She raised an eyebrow.
"Where's Rachel?" I said into the radio.
Pause.
"She's safe. With me."
"Put her on."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"She's—she's resting. Injured. We've been walking for two days."
"Put. Her. On."
"I can't. But I swear she's alive." David's voice cracked slightly. "Jack, I need to meet you. Face to face. I have information—real information. Numbers, weapons, their timeline. Things you need to know."
I stared at the radio.
'He's lying. Rachel wouldn't rest while David made contact. She'd insist on talking. Which means she can't. Or she's not there.'
"Where," I said.
"Half a mile south of your position. There's a clearing near a stream—you'll see three large white stones. I'll be there in one hour. Come alone, or I walk."
I released the button.
The Elder looked at me. "It's a trap."
"I know."
"So you're not going."
"I didn't say that."
Footsteps behind me. Chloe climbed up onto the wall platform. Her face was tight, jaw set.
"I heard," she said. "You're not seriously considering this."
"David says he has intel."
"David is working with them," Chloe snapped. "He'll say anything to get you out there."
"Probably."
"Then why go?"
I looked at the jungle. Dark. Silent. Sixty soldiers out there somewhere.
"Because if they have Rachel, she's leverage. And if David's actually telling the truth about the intel, I need it."
The Elder crossed her arms. "And if it's an ambush?"
"Then I make sure I don't walk into it alone."
Chloe grabbed my arm. "Jack—"
I turned to face her. "I'm not going to do anything stupid."
"Walking into a trap IS stupid."
"I'll have backup. Overwatch positions. Exit routes."
"And if they shoot you before you get there?"
I didn't answer.
Chloe's eyes filled. "You're going to get yourself killed."
"Maybe." I cupped her face. "But if I don't go, they'll come here. I'd rather fight them on my terms."
She closed her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks.
I kissed her. Hard. Final.
When I pulled back, she was shaking.
"If I'm not back in two hours," I said, "assume I'm dead or captured. Evacuate to the western ridge."
The Elder nodded. "And the compound?"
"Burn it. Don't let them take anything useful."
I turned and walked toward the ladder.
Chloe called after me. "Jack."
I stopped. Didn't turn around.
"If you die out there," she said quietly, "I'm burning their entire camp to the ground."
I smiled.
"I'd expect nothing less."
---
The armory was in the back of the main building. Wooden racks lined the walls, holding weapons we'd taken from the dead hunters.
I geared up in silence.
The Glock went into the holster on my hip. Hunting knife strapped to my thigh. Extra magazine in my vest pocket.
The Elder appeared in the doorway. "Your men are moving into position."
"Good."
"Ten fighters," she said. "Spread across the treeline around the clearing. Overwatch. If the soldiers try anything, my people have clear shots."
I nodded and picked up the fake detonator from the workbench.
Black plastic housing. Red button. Wires visible through a crack in the casing.
In reality, it was a gutted garage door opener wired to a smoke grenade buried fifty feet from the clearing's southern edge.
Press the button, smoke deploys, I run.
The Elder studied me. "You're not coming back, are you."
I looked at her. "I don't plan on dying today."
"That's not what I asked."
I strapped the fake detonator to my belt and headed for the door.
"If I'm not back in two hours," I said, "tell Chloe I'm sorry."
The Elder didn't respond.
I walked out into the jungle.
---
The jungle was silent.
No birds. No insects. Just the sound of my boots on wet earth and my own breathing.
I moved slowly. Scanning every shadow.
They were out there. Watching.
I could feel it.
The clearing came into view through the trees. Fifty feet ahead. Wide open space. Three white stones in the center—old trail markers, cracked and weathered.
And David.
Standing alone. Hands at his sides. No visible weapons.
I stopped at the treeline.
David shifted his weight. Nervous. Eyes scanning the jungle looking for me.
'Bait. But where are the soldiers?'
I scanned the opposite treeline. Nothing moved. Shadows too deep. Foliage too thick.
'Hidden. Waiting.'
I pulled the fake detonator from my belt. Held it in my right hand. Thumb on the button.
'Let's see if this works.'
I stepped into the clearing.
---
David saw me immediately.
His head snapped up. Eyes wide.
"Jack," he called out. Voice shaking. "You came."
I didn't answer. Just walked forward. Slow. Deliberate.
Twenty feet from David, I stopped.
"Where's Rachel."
David swallowed. "She's—she's with them. At their camp. I barely got away—"
"You're lying."
"I'm not—I swear—"
Movement.
Six soldiers stepped out of the jungle simultaneously.
Professional spacing. Rifles raised. Overlapping fields of fire.
'Fuck.'
They'd been there the whole time.
The lead soldier—older, crew cut, lieutenant's insignia—stepped forward.
"Jack," he said calmly. "Lower the device. Get on your knees. You're coming with us."
I held up the detonator where everyone could see it.
"Dead man's switch," I said. "I let go, it detonates. You shoot me, same result."
The lieutenant's expression didn't change. "You're bluffing."
"Try me."
Behind him, two soldiers grabbed David and pulled him back.
David started to speak. "You promised I would deal with him—"
"Shut up," the lieutenant said without looking at him.
"But—"
"I said shut up."
David's mouth snapped closed.
The lieutenant kept his rifle on me. "My orders are to bring you in alive. But they didn't say unharmed. Last chance."
"Orders from who?"
"Captain Morrison."
I smiled. "Never heard of her."
Another soldier stepped forward.
Broader. Younger. Scar over his left eyebrow. Tactical vest with "WEBB" stenciled across the plate carrier.
He was staring at me. Then his expression changed.
"Jack?" His voice was uncertain.
I looked at him.
'Do I know this guy?'
He stepped closer. Studying my face.
Then his eyes widened.
"Jack... Reeves?"
My stomach dropped.
'Fuck.
The face clicked. Marcus Webb.
Rifleman. 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines. We'd run patrols together in Helmand Province. Pulled guard duty. Shared a tent in Kandahar.
I hadn't seen him in five years.
'Of all the people...'
---
"I think you've got the wrong guy," I said.
Marcus's jaw tightened. "Bullshit." He turned to the lieutenant. "Sir, I served with this man. 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines. Afghanistan, 2019. That's Corporal Jack Reeves."
The lieutenant's eyes narrowed. "You're certain?"
"Positive."
Marcus looked back at me. His expression was cold now. Hard.
"So you're alive," he said. "We thought you died in that yacht sinking."
I didn't answer.
"And here you are," he continued, voice low and sharp. "Killing contractors. Running with cartel targets. Keeping women like property." His grip on the rifle tightened. "What the hell happened to you, Jack?"
Before I could respond, he keyed his radio.
"Captain," he said. Voice cold and professional. "We have a situation. Target is... it's Reeves. Jack Reeves. Former 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines. Discharged 2020. He's alive."