Page 18 of The Hyena’s Guardian

“We are trapped inside a military aircraft flying toward a haunted murder monastery in the middle of the Romanian mountains while something scratches in the cargo hold,” Matt replied. “I feel like my suspicion levels are appropriately calibrated.”

“That is fair.”

Across the cabin, Keene finally looked up from the tablet in his hands. “Your definition of appropriately calibrated remains questionable.”

Matt pointed toward him immediately. “See? That was suspiciously timed too.”

“It was observational.”

“That is somehow worse.”

The exchange earned a few restrained smirks from the operatives nearby, though the tension inside the cabin never fully disappeared. Even the brief humor hung thin around the edges, like everybody onboard understood they were still only one strange noise away from drawing weapons again.

The aircraft gradually descended deeper through the storm layer while rain hammered violently against the windows hard enough to blur the landscape below into shifting shadows and fractured light. Turbulence rolled through the fuselage in uneven waves as the pilot guided the transport between mountain peaks hidden somewhere beneath the clouds.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the terrain below them.

This time Matt caught sight of ruins scattered across one of the distant ridgelines far beneath the aircraft. Crumbling stone walls and the broken remains of towers emerged from the darkness for only a moment before the storm swallowed them again, leaving behind the brief impression of something ancient being reclaimed by the forest surrounding it.

Romania, Matt decided, appeared to collect ominous scenery competitively.

The pilot’s voice crackled through the headset system a moment later. “Approaching final insertion corridor.”

The atmosphere inside the cabin tightened.

Conversation disappeared almost at once while operatives adjusted headsets, secured equipment, and performed final weapon checks with quiet efficiency. The casual edges of the flight vanished beneath the familiar focus that hung over military teams seconds before deployment, when everyone stopped wasting energy on unnecessary conversation and narrowed their attention toward survival instead.

The familiar shift settled through his body as training pushed emotion aside in favor of focus. The transition always felt strangely mechanical after enough deployments, like part of his mind simply reached over and lowered a switch whenever missions became real.

Except this mission still carried that same uneasy pull beneath Matt’s ribs.

The monastery kept returning to his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to focus on more immediate concerns. The tunnels. The claw marks carved through stone. The blurred thermal image hidden deep underground. Every time he replayed the mission briefing in his head, the same instinctive curiosity surfaced again beneath the caution training had spent years trying to sharpen into survival.

That was the part he distrusted most.

Fear made sense. Fear kept people alert. Curiosity, on the other hand, had a long history of convincing otherwise intelligent people to walk willingly toward dangerous things just to understand them better. And somehow, despite everything they had seen and heard so far, part of him still wanted to know what was waiting beneath that monastery. The realization bothered him more than the danger itself.

Beside him, Baptiste secured the holster at his side before speaking quietly enough that only Matt could hear him over the engines.

“You’re thinking loudly again.”

Matt kept his eyes forward. “I’m starting to resent that phrase on a personal level.”

“It remains accurate.”

“That seems medically impossible.”

Baptiste glanced toward him briefly, his expression unreadable beneath the dim red cabin lights. “Most predators eventually learn to trust instinct.”

Matt looked back toward the storm outside the window. “And what happens when instinct keeps trying to drag you toward something dangerous?”

For the first time in several minutes, Baptiste hesitated before answering.

“Then you learn whether the danger is hunting you,” he said calmly, “or calling you home.”

The line lodged cold and heavy beneath Matt’s ribs. Before he could respond, warning lights flashed briefly overhead as the aircraft dropped through another violent pocket of turbulence. Then the cloud layer beneath them finally broke apart, and the monastery appeared below.

***