The sound of the explosion still echoed in the distance as Elias, Grimm, and Ash pushed deeper into the forest.
There was no time to rest.No room for regret.
The priority was clear: Calvin Morrow.
The transmitter Mason Coyle had used likely already sent an alert — either to the New Order or, worse, to infiltrated rebel forces.The battlefield of silence left behind was proof enough that the world now knew Elias was here.
And now, everyone would come hunting.
Grimm followed a new trail.Patterns of disorder — scuffled steps, scratches on trees, dark smears of blood along the earth.
The remains of a retreat.
But what caught Elias's attention was something else.
Among the chaos — a different pattern.Firm footprints, disciplined cadence.And the faint trace of wheels — a makeshift cart.
In the center of it all, lighter impressions — someone weak being carried.
Elias knelt down to examine the ground more closely.
Instinct spoke before logic.
Morrow.
It could only be.
The urgency, the improvised transport, the group peeling away from the main force — everything pointed to someone too valuable to abandon.
Someone like Calvin Morrow.
Elias pressed the rifle tight against his chest and looked at Grimm and Ash.
"We have our target," he murmured.
The dogs pushed forward, as if sensing the weight of the mission.
Without hesitation, Elias accelerated his pace.
The trail was clear — for now.But the terrain ahead grew rougher, rockier.A single misstep could cost everything.
The night deepened.The moon, veiled by heavy clouds, barely lit their path.
The forest was a maze of shadows and forgotten ruins.
And among them... traps.
The first was subtle: a thin wire stretched between two trees.Elias spotted it just in time.
He stopped.Crouched.Studied it.
Thin copper wires, linked to an improvised landmine buried under the mud.
He smiled bitterly.
"Clever, but not clever enough."
He cut the wire carefully, disarming the trap, and continued forward.
Their enemies knew they were being pursued.
That made everything even more dangerous.
A few meters later, voices.
Low. Nervous.
Elias crept up a rocky rise, peering over the edge.
Below, a small improvised camp.
Five armed men.
And in the center — tied to a broken-wheeled cart, wrapped in a filthy blanket — an old man.
Even from a distance, Elias recognized the frail posture, the bald head, the burdened shoulders.
Calvin Morrow.
There. Within reach.
But Elias knew: killing Morrow would mean nothing.The order was clear: capture alive.
Grimm and Ash remained perfectly still beside him, waiting for the signal.
The mercenary assessed the situation.
The perimeter was weak.The men were distracted, arguing among themselves.
This could work.
A swift strike.Minimal noise.Target secured alive.
Elias exhaled slowly, emptying his body of tension.
The mission had reached its critical phase.
And any mistake — any hesitation — would mean the end.
He glanced at Grimm and Ash, alert and ready.
He signaled silently:
Three.Two.One.
Movement.
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