Page 110 of The Hunter's Empire

"It explains a lot."

The final point comes late at night.

A lone attacker breaks away from the remaining group and spots us before we spot him. He barely has time to lift his rifle before my knife finds its target.

By the time Nico reaches me, the man is already on the ground.

I glance up with a grin. "Nine."

He looks from the body to me before letting out a long, theatrical sigh.

"I had that one." Nico says.

"You were too slow." I reply.

"I was five seconds away."

"And I was already here."

He mutters something under his breath.

"I think that's called losing." I say, unable to hide the satisfaction in my voice.

"I don't lose." He replies.

"You literally just did."

For a second, he looks as though he's considering arguing. Instead, he shakes his head and lets out a reluctant laugh.

"You're never letting me forget this."

"Oh, I fully intend to remind you." I say with a grin.

The smile lingering on his face tells me he already knows I will.

By the time it's pitch black, the game has long since stopped feeling like a game. We're bruised, scratched, and running almost entirely on adrenaline, but we've survived another day. As we make our way back toward the cave, the silence between us gradually returns, leaving me alone with thoughts I've been trying to avoid since the plane went down.

The attack was too precise to be a coincidence. Someone knew exactly where I would be, knew my flight path, and sent enough men to make sure I never left this island alive. I can't stop turning the question over in my mind, searching for a name that makes sense.

I glance at Nico.

"Who do you think could orchestrate something like this?"

He doesn't look at me. His gaze remains fixed on the darkness ahead, his expression unreadable as he continues walking without breaking stride. The silence stretches between us, and after several long moments, I realize he has no intention of answering.

Somehow, that unsettles me far more than any answer could have.

Chapter 24

Domenico

Morning arrives without bringing any real relief. The first rays of sunlight filter through the cave entrance, spilling pale streaks of gold across the stone floor, but they do little to warm the damp air lingering inside.

I sit with my back against the cold stone wall, absently rolling the last half-empty bottle of water between my hands while I listen to the distant sounds drifting in through the mouth of the cave.

The sounds drifting in from outside blend together. The distant crash of waves against the cliffs, the rustle of leaves in the jungle, and, every so often, something that doesn't belong. Boots crush undergrowth. Voices carry faintly through the trees. Metal brushes against metal.

They're still searching.