Rain drizzled through the thick canopy as the group pressed forward, boots sinking into wet earth. The path ahead was narrow and treacherous, a winding trail that zigzagged up a muddy ridge. Amira's breathing was measured but sharp, her every step precise as she led the group forward. Her eyes constantly scanned the trees.
Lucia trudged close behind her, clutching the bag that held Dominic's files. Rosalie was at the rear, her injured leg slowing her, while Zion walked beside Gabriel, who leaned heavily on a carved walking stick fashioned earlier from a snapped pine branch.
Gabriel winced. "I'm fine," he muttered, though his pale face betrayed otherwise.
Zion adjusted his grip. "And I'm not buying that. Keep leaning. You're not walking out of here alone."
The group had gone nearly an hour without speaking. The silence was no longer comforting; it was tight with paranoia. Somewhere behind them, the mercenaries Dominic once commanded or worse, his investors were likely tracking them.
Amira stopped suddenly. She crouched beside a muddy patch where fresh prints led off the trail. Her heart raced.
"They're close," she whispered.
Lucia knelt beside her, fingers brushing the edge of the footprint. "Military-grade boots. Maybe four of them."
"Ambush?" Zion asked, hand already reaching for his pistol.
Amira nodded. "We take the high ground."
They veered off the path, cutting through dense underbrush to scale a mossy ridge. At the top, they found a small natural outcrop, hidden and overlooking the trail they'd just left. From there, they waited.
It didn't take long. Three figures emerged through the trees camouflaged, silent, and heavily armed.
Rosalie muttered under her breath, "I knew they'd follow us."
Amira didn't respond. Her eyes locked onto the target. But something felt off. The third man in the back… his movements were too erratic. Nervous. He turned his face for a second, and Amira's breath caught.
"Wait," she said. "Don't fire."
The figure paused, looked up directly at their position and raised both hands slowly.
"It's a message," he called out. "From someone who wants a truce."
The others immediately tensed, but Amira stood.
"Come up," she said.
"Amira..." Zion warned, but she held up a hand.
The man climbed the ridge alone, arms still raised, his rifle slung over his back. He was young, mid-twenties, with nervous eyes and a wound on his temple.
"I'm Elias," he said. "I used to work for Carter's offshore security. One of Dominic's contractors. But I left before the factory fire."
"Why are you here?" Amira asked.
"Because someone else has eyes on you. Someone higher than Dominic. They know what you stole. And they want it."
Lucia clutched the bag closer.
Zion narrowed his eyes. "Who are 'they'?"
"I don't know their names. But they have reach. Government, syndicates, global money. Dominic was just a pawn."
The group fell silent. For the first time, the full weight of their war sank in.
Amira stepped forward. "Then you're going to help us fight back."
Elias's expression was unreadable. "I'll do what I can. But you need to understand—what you're carrying isn't just about vengeance. It's a blueprint to burn half the financial underworld."
Zion exchanged a glance with Amira. She exhaled slowly, the forest spinning in shades of wet green and gray.
"Then it's time we light the match."