My mind spirals. Did they move her before the assault? Did someone drag her out a back way while we were fighting? Did they already?—
No. I force myself to think. If they’d killed her, there would be blood. A body. Signs of violence.
I look again at the wall. Shallow grooves carved into the dirt. The board above, pried loose. Nails bent and pulled free. She got herself out. During the chaos of the breach, while we were fighting off hostiles from a hidden bunker, Sloane climbed out of this pit and ran. She didn’t wait to be saved. She saved herself.
Pride hits first. Then terror.
She’s out there in the jungle, thinking she’s running from more danger, not toward rescue.
I scan the area, extending my senses. There…her scent trail, leading toward the tree line. It’s only minutes old. I also scent blood, leaving a trail any tracker could follow.
“Pit’s empty.” I’m already moving toward the jungle as I speak into comms. “She escaped during the breach. Trail leads east into the jungle. I’m going after her.”
“Copy,” Kelt responds. “We’re still mopping up. How fresh?”
“Minutes. I’ve got her scent.”
“Go. Check in when you have her.”
The tree line swallows me. Smoke and gunfire fade, replaced by thick vegetation, insects, night birds and the drip of moisture from the canopy.
I move fast. What would be nearly impenetrable terrain for humans is manageable for me. My night vision cuts through the darkness, turning shadows into shapes. I can see the broken branches, disturbed undergrowth and the subtle signs of someone crashing through in panic. Her scent is mixed with blood and fear, like a beacon pulling me forward.
Blood on a root. She fell here.
A broken vine. She pushed through here.
Her trail weaves and stumbles. Sloane must be weak, disoriented and probably dehydrated but she kept going. I move faster, surprised by how much distance she covered in pitch darkness. Most humans would have collapsed after a hundred meters. She’s gone at least two kilometers. My admiration grows with every step but so does my worry.
I’m alone in the jungle, just me and the trail. Comms are quiet. The others are handling whatever’s left back there while I track the female who refused to wait for rescue.
Her scent gets stronger. I slow down because she’s close now. In fact, I can hear her breathing, fast and ragged. She’s stopped moving and now she’s hiding from whoever followed her from the compound into the jungle.
Smart. Of course she heard me coming, I’m not exactly subtle, crashing through the jungle after her. For all she knows, I’m cartel.
“Sloane.” I say her name into the darkness. We’ve never met in person, but we’ve talked for hours. She knows my voice.
Silence. For one horrible moment, I think I’ve lost her. That she bolted again, or I was tracking the wrong trail, or?—
“Sloane.” My voice cracks on her name. I can’t help it. Twelve days of fear and fury pour out of me. “I’ve got you.”
Still nothing.
Then I see her pressed against a massive tree trunk, trying to make herself invisible. Holding a rock in her fist like a weapon.Even now, after everything, she was ready to fight. She looks terrible and beautiful at once. Filthy clothes hanging loose, her hair matted with dirt and leaves. Her feet are wrapped in bloody rags. But those glorious blue eyes are sharp, aware and alive, looking at me like she’s not sure I’m real.
“Jonus?” Her voice is small. Disbelieving.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. “It’s me.”
The rock falls from her fingers.
“You’re real.” She stares at me. “You’re actually here.”
“I’m here.”
“How—”
“You listed me as your emergency contact.” I move closer, slowly, carefully. “Of course I came.”
