The doors opened, and the heat hit her like a wall.
The air was thick and wet, heavy with the smell of growing things, of rot and bloom tangled together, of life in its most relentless form. Insects droned in the canopy. Birds called in languages older than humanity. Somewhere in the distance, something shrieked, animal or bird, she couldn't tell.
Serafina stepped onto the landing pad and felt the weight of the jungle pressing in on all sides, alive and aware in a way that made her skin prickle.
"The training facility," Morgan said, gesturing toward the largest building. "You'll eat here, sleep here, bleed here. For the next four weeks, this is your entire world."
Four weeks. It had sounded manageable when Morgan first said it. Now, standing in the shadow of that endless green, it felt like a lifetime.
"And after that?"
Morgan's gaze shifted toward the horizon, toward something Serafina couldn't see.
"After that," she said, "you'll be ready for Isla Sombra."
A woman was waiting for them at the entrance to the main building.
She was petite, with dark hair pulled back from a face that was pretty in an understated way. She wore simple clothes, practical for the jungle heat, but she didn't quite fit the setting. There was a stillness to her. A knowing.
"Serafina," Morgan said, "this is Leonie. She handles candidate wellbeing—the parts of this I can't ethically do alone."
Leonie stepped forward and extended her hand. Her grip was warm, firm, and her smile reached her eyes. British, from the accent. "It's good to meet you. I know this is... a lot."
"That's one way to put it."
Leonie laughed softly. "I said the same thing, once. Worse things, actually. I believe I called Karian a kidnapping bastard to his face, which in hindsight was probably not my finest moment."
"Karian?"
"The Marak of Luxar. My..." She paused, as if searching for the right word. "My mate. My husband, in human terms, though that doesn't quite capture it." Her expression softened. "I was abducted twelve months ago. Sold at an alien auction. Karian bought me, and I spent a long time being furious about it."
Serafina stared at her. "You were abducted. And now you help recruit other women?"
"I help give them choices I didn't have." Leonie's voice was gentle but direct. "The matching program exists because what happened to me shouldn't happen to anyone. Morgan and I screen candidates, ensure consent, make sure the women who participate actually want to be here." She tilted her head slightly. "Do you want to be here, Serafina?"
The question landed harder than it should have. Did she? She had come for the money. For Aria. For Angelo. But standing here, in the humid air of a jungle compound, about to train to hunt an alien warrior...
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I'm here. That has to count for something."
Leonie nodded slowly. "It does. And for what it's worth, you can walk away at any point. The choice is always yours." Her expression turned serious. "But if you stay, you train like you're going to war. Because that's what this is."
She glanced at Morgan. "I'll let you get settled. We'll talk more later."
She walked away, and Serafina watched her go, trying to reconcile what she'd just heard. Abducted. Sold. And now... happy? Content? It didn't make sense.
But then again, none of this made sense.
The first week nearly broke her.
Serafina had thought she was fit. Eight years in the Marines, fourteen more as a cop, she'd kept herself in shape, maintained her edge, never let herself go soft. She could run five miles without stopping, put ten rounds through a quarter-sized target at fifty yards, and subdue a suspect twice her size if the situation called for it.
None of that mattered here.
The trainers pushed her harder than any drill instructor ever had. They were a mix of humans with military backgrounds and a single Saelori advisor named Vel, who watched everything with those unnerving black eyes. They ran her through jungle terrain until her lungs burned and her legs gave out. They put weapons in her hands she'd never seen before and expected her to master them in days. They threw her into combat simulations against opponents who didn't pull punches and didn't care if she bled.
She bled a lot.
She could leave. Morgan had made that clear. But quitting felt worse than bleeding.
