There’s admiration in his voice. The same tone he used when he found me in the jungle and realized I’d escaped the pit on my own.
“When we get back,” I say, “I’m going to finish that story. That asshole hasn’t stopped me. Aldridge is still going down.”
He snorts. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”
The sky continues to lighten. The jungle sounds shift as nocturnal creatures give way to dawn birds. I can feel Jonus picking up the pace slightly, his breathing still steady despite hours of carrying me through difficult terrain.
“How much further?”
“Maybe three clicks. We’re making good time.”
Three kilometers. Then a helicopter. Then... I don’t know. Medical care. Debriefings. The real world. But for right now, I’m in the arms of an orc who crossed an ocean to find me. And despite the terror, exhaustion and the throbbing pain in my feet, I feel safer than I have in twelve days.
A clearing appears suddenly. One moment we’re in dense jungle, the next Jonus is slowing at the edge of an open space. Maybe fifty meters across, tall grass, the sky visible overhead for the first time in hours.
“This is it,” he says. “Extraction point. I apologize but I’m going to have to set you down for a bit before we get on our ride.”
He sets me down gently against a tree at the edge of the clearing. My feet touch the ground and I have to bite back a cry, the pain is worse than I expected, sharp and immediate.
Jonus crouches beside me, rifle ready, scanning the jungle around us. The sky is pale now, pre-dawn gray. Then Jonus tenses, hand going to his ear. I can’t hear whatever comesthrough his earpiece, but I can see his expression change. His jaw tightens and eyes narrow.
“Copy,” he says. “How far behind?” A pause, then… “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The team is close but they picked up a tail.” His voice is grim. “Cartel tracked them.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’re not going to have a quiet extraction.”
Before I can respond, there’s movement in the trees to the northwest. Big shapes burst from the jungle, moving fast.
I tense, heart slamming against my ribs. Can’t tell friend from foe. Can’t tell if we’re about to be rescued or killed. Then I see them clearly and my breath catches. Two massive orcs — one enormous, even bigger than Jonus, the other leaner but still huge and two humans flanking them, weapons up, firing behind them as they run.
This must be Kelt and Aldar and then the Navy SEALs, Cole and Martinez, the team Jonus described. But they’re not walking calmly to a rendezvous point and gunfire is erupting from the trees behind them.
The cartel is right on their tail.
“Time to go!” Jonus scoops me up and we’re moving, breaking from the tree line into the open clearing.
I hear the thump of helicopter rotors in the distance, getting louder and closer.
Everything happens at once.
The helicopter appears over the tree line, coming in fast and low. Military-style, no markings. A thick rope drops from the open side door — not a ladder, something else. I can see attachment points along its length, metal rings spaced at intervals.
The other orcs and the two humans are still taking fire. The huge orc roars something I can’t hear over the sudden chaos of gunfire and rotors.
Jonus runs for the helicopter, me clutched against his chest. Bullets tear up the ground around us. The rope swings in the rotor wash. One of the humans — Cole? Martinez? — reaches it first. He doesn’t climb, instead he clips something from his tactical vest to one of the metal rings, and suddenly he’s attached, secure, hands free to keep firing as he’s pulled up.
The other human is shooting his gun at the tree line, then he clicks onto the rope. They both go up and they’re in the helicopter. The two orcs are still shooting at the cartel firing from their trucks.
Jonus reaches the rope and I realize the problem immediately. I don’t have a harness.
“Hold onto me,” he orders. He clips his own tactical harness to the rope, then wraps one massive arm around my waist, crushing me against his chest. His other hand grips the rope above the attachment point. “Wrap your arms around my neck. Your legs around my waist. Don’t let go.”
I do exactly what he says. My arms lock around his neck and my destroyed feet cross behind his back, pain screaming through me, but I hold on like my life depends on it, because it does.
