They were alone. Cut off. Underground, and heading into the dark.
Bear exhaled and sighted through his NVGs. The green made everything as easy to see as day. Rock walls stretched around them in uneven angles, a natural cave, with evidence of carving. Old symbols. Etched stone.
Bailee moved close, voice low. “They were using this as a base.”
He nodded once. “Let’s see how far this goes.”
They advanced, slow and careful, Flint sniffing every corner, every drop of blood. The farther they moved, the colder the air became. Bear caught faint traces of burned oil, metal, urine.
Then…
Voices.
Low. Guttural. Not English.
Bear motioned for silence.
Flint halted.
Bailee leaned in, breath hot against his ear. “Smells like people. Close.”
Then he saw it, a glow ahead. Orange, flickering. Firelight. He pushed up his NVGs and gave the silent count with his fingers. Three. Two. One.
They edged forward.
The tunnel opened into a hollowed-out chamber, broad, uneven, and wrong.
Chains hung from overhead struts. There were makeshift beds. Metal crates, and on the far side of the chamber sat Mara Duran and Ethan Voss. Both alive. Both bloodied and bound.
Bear’s breath caught. He moved toward them just as a man stepped from the shadows behind them, gun raised and grabbed Bailee.
The moment the gun left its holster, Bear moved.
But not fast enough.
The trafficker grabbed Bailee by the collar, yanked her back against his chest, and disappeared into the side tunnel with a roar.
Bear surged forward, only to halt as movement exploded behind him. He turned his rifle up and hot.
“Clear! Friendly!” Zorro’s voice snapped through the tunnel like a whip. Light swept in behind it, and laser dots skimmed the walls.
“Bear, status!”
“Two hostages alive, Mara and Voss. One armed contact just took Bailee.”
Joker dropped to Mara’s side, cutting her restraints. Blitz covered the exit.
Boots echoed from their right. “Contact! Contact!” Buck yelled.
Joker met Bear’s eyes, voice clipped and low. “Go. We’ve got this.”
That was all Bear needed. Even though he hated to leave his guys in a firefight without him, Bailee’s life was on the line. He turned, whistled sharply. “Flint…track!”
The dog launched ahead, low and fast, into the pitch-dark tunnel.
Bear dropped his NODs into place. The world snapped into green fire, stone glowing in detail, footprints clear, the heat of recent movement shimmering ahead.
Bailee was fighting, he could hear it in the scuffle, the sharp, echoing drag of boots on rock as he followed the tunnel and the fresh humid air up, breaking out into the green of the jungle
