Chapter 25
Zora
The first thing I remember when I wake is the kiss. The memory returns with embarrassing clarity before I even open my eyes, pulling me back to the warmth of his lips and the quiet challenge in his voice. Heat creeps into my cheeks as I slowly open my eyes.
"You shouldn't put weight on it yet." Nico's voice pulls me back to the present.
He's already awake, crouched a few feet away, watching me with the same calm expression he always wears.
There isn't the slightest hint of awkwardness on his face.
No smug remark. No teasing smile. Nothing to suggest that we'd crossed a line neither of us should have crossed only a few hours earlier. For some reason, that bothers me.
I push myself upright anyway, only for pain to shoot through my ankle. I hiss and sink back onto the rock before I can stop myself.
"And what's the alternative?" I ask, trying to ignore both the throbbing in my leg and the strange disappointment settling somewhere in my chest. "Stay here until they find us?"
"There isn't one." He replies evenly as he offers me his hand.
For a second, I hesitate, wondering if he'll say something. Anything.
He doesn't.
I take his hand instead and let him pull me to my feet. The moment I stand, pain radiates through my ankle again, hard enough to blur my vision.
"You alright?" He asks.
"I've had better mornings."
"That's not what I asked."
I force myself to straighten. "I'll manage."
He studies me for another moment before giving a small nod, his attention already drifting back to the jungle surrounding us.
"Come on. We need to keep moving."
That's it. No mention of the kiss. No acknowledgement that it ever happened.
As we disappear into the trees, I can't decide whether I'm relieved... or strangely disappointed that he's pretending last night never existed.
The jungle is still damp from the night's humidity as we make our way east, weaving carefully between towering trees and tangled roots. Every few minutes Nico stops to study the ground or listen for movement before choosing another direction. He's quieter than usual this morning.
We walk in silence for what feels like twenty minutes, weaving through dense undergrowth while Nico leads us steadily east.
"Why east?" I ask.
Nico steps over a fallen log before answering without looking back. "The cliffs are higher."
"And?"
"If anyone's still searching offshore, they'll have a better chance of seeing us."
I glance through the trees toward the distant coastline, though the jungle is too dense to see much of anything.
"You still think someone's coming?"
He shrugs lightly. "I think it's worth planning as though they will."
The answer is so characteristically Nico that I don't bother arguing.
The ground grows rougher the farther we travel. I try hiding the limp, but every few steps another jolt of pain shoots through my ankle, forcing me to lean against him more than I'd like.
"I'm slowing you down." I admit quietly.
"You are."
I lift my head to glare at him. "You could've lied."
He glances at me, the corner of his mouth threatening to lift. "You would've known."
A reluctant sigh escapes me. "I liked you better when you were less honest."
"I didn't." He glances at me then, something unreadable flickering across his expression. It lingers just long enough to make my chest tighten before he looks away again.
For a moment, I wonder if he's thinking about last night too. The moment doesn't last. As we continue deeper into the jungle, the silence around us gradually changes. It takes me a second to realize what's wrong. The birds are gone. So are the insects. The forest has fallen unnaturally still.
Nico comes to an abrupt stop. I nearly walk into him.
"What is it?" I whisper.
He doesn't answer. His eyes move slowly from one section of the jungle to another, every muscle in his body suddenly alert.
When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. "We're not alone."
Almost on cue, branches shift somewhere to our left.
I freeze. Another rustle follows from the right, then another behind us.
Slowly, I turn, my pulse beginning to hammer against my ribs as figures emerge from the vegetation one after another.
Rifles are already raised by the time they step into the clearing, spreading into a wide semicircle that tightens with every passing second.
More men appear behind them, then another line farther back, until it becomes impossible to tell where the jungle ends and the ambush begins.
"There are too many." I murmur.
Nico doesn't look at me. "They've been driving us here."
The realization hits instantly. Every path we'd abandoned, every patrol we'd narrowly avoided, every route that had somehow forced us farther inland suddenly makes perfect sense. They were never trying to catch us. They were herding us.
One of the armed men steps forward, his rifle trained squarely on us. "Hands where I can see them!"
Neither of us moves. Without taking his eyes off the men surrounding us, Nico shifts half a step until he's standing slightly in front of me.
"Stay behind me." He says quietly. "If I tell you to run…"
"I'm not leaving."
"Zora."
"I mean it."
For a brief second, I think he's going to argue but a gunshot decides for him.
The bullet slams into the tree beside us, exploding bark across the clearing.
Nico catches my arm and yanks me behind the trunk just as another volley tears through the air.
Shouts erupt from every direction while splinters rain around us.
"They're flanking us!"
"Move!"
Nico explodes out from cover before they can close the distance, striking the nearest attacker hard enough to send him sprawling.
I force myself after him, ignoring the sharp pain ripping through my ankle the moment my foot hits the ground.
Every instinct tells me to stop. Instead, I throw myself into the fight, driving my shoulder into another man and wrenching his weapon away before he can recover.
The clearing dissolves into chaos.
Gunfire cracks through the trees. Men shout over one another.
Branches snap beneath pounding boots as more attackers flood into the clearing.
We move almost instinctively now, falling into a rhythm neither of us ever discussed.
Every time someone gets behind me, Nico is already there.
Every time another rifle swings toward him, I'm moving before he has to think twice.
"You alright?" Nico calls, shoving another attacker backward.
"I'll complain later!" I shout, barely ducking beneath the swing of a rifle butt.
"I'll hold you to that."
Despite everything, I almost smile but the moment doesn't last. Another line of armed men pushes through the trees.
My breathing grows heavier with every passing minute. Sweat stings my eyes, and every step sends another jolt of pain through my ankle, but I refuse to let it slow me down. I grit my teeth, ignore the burning in my leg, and keep fighting.
"They just keep coming." I breathe.
Nico's eyes sweep across the clearing. "They've got us surrounded."
For the first time since the crash, doubt slips into my mind.
We push one group back only for another to replace them, the circle around us growing tighter with every passing second.
My arms feel heavier, my ankle weaker, and somewhere beneath the gunfire a quiet, terrifying thought begins to take shape.
Maybe this is how it ends. Not after finding whoever orchestrated all of this. Not after making it off the island. Just here, surrounded by strangers in a jungle that will swallow every trace we ever existed.
Then...
A ship's horn echoes across the island, deep enough to cut through the gunfire and shouting alike. The sound rolls over the battlefield, powerful and impossible to ignore. For a brief moment, everyone freezes. Even the attackers turn instinctively toward the shoreline.
Another horn follows, accompanied by the unmistakable roar of engines.
I force myself toward the edge of the clearing and peer through the trees. A large vessel is cutting toward the beach, and before it has even fully anchored, armed men begin pouring onto the sand in disciplined formation.
At their head walks a man I would recognize anywhere. Keith.
My breath catches. "Nico..."
He follows my gaze. "I see him."
Keith doesn't hesitate. He drives straight into the battlefield, moving with terrifying precision.
Every strike is deliberate. Every movement ends with another attacker on the ground.
Behind him, his team fans out through the jungle with ruthless coordination, forcing the remaining gunmen to split their attention before systematically overwhelming them. The effect is immediate.
A murmur spreads through the attackers. "The Butcher..."
Another voice repeats it. "It's him. The Butcher's here!"
Fear replaces discipline almost instantly. Several men break formation and run, while others hesitate just long enough for Keith's team to cut them down. Within minutes, the fighting is over, leaving only the sounds of heavy breathing and the distant surf beyond the trees.
Keith's gaze sweeps across the clearing until it lands on me. For the briefest second, relief softens his expression. Then his eyes take in the dirt covering my clothes, the bruises on my arms, and the bandage wrapped around my ankle.
He closes the distance in quick, determined strides. "Zora." His voice is steady, but I can see the concern he isn't bothering to hide. "Are you hurt?"
I manage the faintest smile. "I've looked better."
His eyes immediately drop to my ankle. "How bad is it?"
"It's just a sprain." I tell him, waving away the concern already forming on his face. "I'll survive. I've had worse."
Keith doesn't look convinced.
"You've lost weight." He says quietly.
"I've been on a very disappointing island diet."
The joke earns nothing more than a faint exhale.