David’s consciousness flickered like a dying bulb, phasing in and out of oblivion. His body felt heavy, his mind sluggish. He registered a distant sound—the faint rustling of fabric, the murmur of voices. A damp, earthy smell mixed with the faint tang of antiseptic filled his nose.
Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open.
An unfamiliar ceiling loomed above him—a simple, khaki-colored fabric stretched over metal supports. It wasn’t a hospital ceiling, nor was it the jungle canopy he last remembered. A tent.
He was lying on a thin mattress, his body sore but intact. His fingers twitched against rough fabric, feeling the texture of a worn military cot beneath him.
His throat was dry as sandpaper as he rasped, “Where… am I?”
Then, like a lightning bolt through his skull, memories came rushing back.
His eyes widened as the final image struck him—Jamie being dragged away, her unconscious form slung over Carlos’ massive shoulder.
Panic surged through him. He jerked upright. “Jamie!”
The sudden outburst made his head spin, but worse, it alerted whoever was outside. Heavy footsteps approached, boots crunching against the dirt. The tent flap shifted.
David moved fast, rolling off the cot and pressing himself against the side of the tent’s entrance. Instinct took over. He patted himself down. No weapons, no gear—he was completely clean.
Great. He was unarmed, possibly surrounded, and had no idea whether he was among allies or enemies.
David took a slow breath. He had to think.
Though he was a marksman by trade, David had once been a Navy SEAL. He had left that life behind at Beth’s insistence. She feared for his safety. Jamie, just a child back then, had clung to his leg, begging him not to go on another mission. Her wide, tearful eyes had haunted him for years. So he left.
And now look where I am.
If he had stayed in the SEALs, would he have been able to protect Jamie better? Would he have seen the threat coming?
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. He was at a disadvantage. Though he had trained extensively as a Navy SEAL, he always relied on firearms. Unarmed combat was never his strong suit.
That was Solomon’s specialty.
The thought of his former rival made him grimace. That damn bastard was always better in a fistfight. For the first time in his life, David actually wished Solomon was here. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn novel※fire.net
David tensed, ready to strike—
The person standing there wasn’t a threat.
It was a woman, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, dressed in fatigues. A familiar smirk played on her lips.
“Captain Lancaster,” she said, arms crossed. “You planning to take down the whole camp with your bare hands?”
David blinked. “…Rebecca?”
The medic from his SEAL days grinned. “You finally recognize me. Thought you’d lost more than just your weapons.”
For a moment, David just stood there, trying to process.
Rebecca sighed, stepping forward and punching him lightly in the shoulder. “You idiot. Do you have any idea how pissed off everyone was when you just up and quit?”
David barely had time to react before she pulled him into a hug—tight and warm, filled with emotions she was barely holding back.
“Damn it, David,” she whispered. “You should’ve told us.”
Guilt crept into his chest. Back then, he had been too ashamed. Leaving the SEALs wasn’t just a career change—it felt like abandoning his brothers and sisters. He had blamed Beth for it, but deep down, he knew the truth. He was scared. Scared of dying. Scared of never seeing Jamie again.
And now, Jamie was missing.
He pulled back, clearing his throat. “Where am I?”
Rebecca smirked. “You’re in a forward base. US Navy SEAL territory. And before you ask—yes, we were the third party that crashed your little warlord brawl.”
David exhaled. So that’s what happened.
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Get out here. There are people who want to see you.”
Still feeling the weight of his choices, David stepped outside the tent.
Stepping outside, he took in his surroundings. Dozens of SEALs moved about the camp, some familiar faces, others new. But one thing was clear—this wasn’t just a casual mission. This was something big.
And that meant Jamie was still in danger.
David’s mind raced. If the US military was here, it meant one thing—they were after Jamie and now he had to decide whether to place his trust on his former comrades and believe the SEALs would aid him? or hinder his action to protect Jamie?
Meanwhile: Solomon’s Hunt
Perched high among the trees, Solomon Kane lay in wait. His eyes tracked the dim glow of a fire below, where Carlos sat, tending to the flames. Beside him, Jamie lay unconscious.
Solomon’s grip tightened around the branch. He was in no rush. He had the patience of a predator.
Carlos was a mercenary. Mercenaries valued one thing above all—self-preservation. And when backed into a corner, they would do anything to survive.
Including killing their hostages.
That was what Solomon feared most. If Carlos thought there was no way out, he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate Jamie.
For now, Solomon watched. Waited. One wrong move, and she dies.
And that was not an option.
Carlos crouched near Jamie, his large hand gripping her shoulder roughly as he shook her awake.
"Wake up, princesa," he muttered, his voice low but firm.
Jamie groaned, her body weak and mind clouded, barely able to register where she was. But Carlos had no patience.
He grabbed a small flask of water, uncapped it, and splashed it onto her face.
She gasped, her eyes fluttering open in shock.
"There we go," Carlos said with a smirk. "Now, let's have a little chat. You're valuable, chica. And I need to know just how much before I decide what to do with you."
Jamie struggled to focus, her head throbbing. She tried to move, but Carlos's grip tightened. "Come on, sweetheart," he pressed. "You and your friends have made some powerful enemies. Tell me something useful, and maybe I’ll think twice before selling you to the highest bidder."