The first thing Elias heard was footsteps. Not the whisper of leaves or the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush—these were heavier, deliberate. Human.
He froze. His breath caught in his throat as his hand instinctively gripped the rifle beside him. Dawn light cut through the trees in thin blades, slicing the mist that hung low over the jungle floor. For a heartbeat, he thought it was another hallucination. He’d heard things before—voices, whispers, sometimes even the sound of his own squad moving through the brush. None of them ever turned out to be real.
But this time, the steps didn’t fade. They drew closer.
He crouched low behind the twisted roots of a fallen tree, eyes fixed on the faint movement ahead. The air was thick, heavy with humidity and tension. Then—between the vines and broken shafts of sunlight—someone stepped into view.
A woman.
She looked like she’d been dragged through hell and then kept walking. Her uniform was shredded and dirt-streaked, her scarf faded to the color of ash. Dust clung to her skin, but her eyes—sharp and blue—cut through it all. The rifle slung across her shoulder gleamed faintly in the light.
Elias blinked hard, half-convinced his mind had finally snapped. “You’re not real,” he muttered under his breath.
But then she saw him. And her shoulders dropped with something he hadn’t seen in weeks—relief.
“Elias…” she breathed out, voice raw, tired, but alive.
He didn’t move. Couldn’t. Every muscle in his body screamed between fight and disbelief. “Who the hell are you?”
She pushed a stray lock of hair from her face, revealing a small scar across her temple. “Sergeant Mara Voss,” she said, stepping closer, her tone steady now. “From the 5th Recon.”
That name hit him like a jolt. He knew her—heard it whispered during operations. A demolitions specialist, sharp as a blade, reckless enough to make commanders sweat. He hadn’t seen her before, but he knew of her reputation.
“You’re… real,” Elias finally muttered, his voice hoarse. “You’re actually—”
“—here,” she finished, kneeling in front of him. “Yeah. Took me long enough.” Her gaze flicked over his form—sunburned skin, the fading infection on his arm, the exhaustion carved into every inch of him. “Jesus, you look like hell.”
“I could say the same.”
She smiled faintly, though the exhaustion behind it was clear. “I heard you were missing,” she said, her tone softening. “HQ wrote you off after two weeks. Said it was too dangerous to send a retrieval team. Claimed you were probably already dead.”
He looked away, jaw tightening. “That sounds about right.”
“But I didn’t believe it.” She dropped her pack beside him and sat, exhaling. “You’re too damn stubborn to die out here.”
“You came alone?” he asked, disbelief creeping into his voice.
Her smile faded. “I insisted on leading a team,” she said quietly. “Command shut it down. So I waited until night, grabbed what I could, and left anyway.” She looked around the dense green. “Took me five days to track your trail. You make it easy—blood, ash, and broken branches every few clicks.”
He laughed once, dry and rasping. “Didn’t exactly plan on stealth. Just survival.”
“I can see that.” Her tone softened again, and for a long moment, neither spoke. The jungle sang around them—distant birds, dripping water, the whisper of wind through the trees. It almost felt peaceful.
Elias studied her, trying to reconcile the fact that she was real, that someone had actually come for him. “You risked your life… for me?”
She met his gaze, steady. “You’d have done the same.”
That silenced him.
Mara reached into her pack and pulled out a canteen. “Drink. Slowly.”
He hesitated, then took it. The water was warm but clean—it felt like life itself. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said after a moment. “You don’t even know what’s out here.”
She smirked, wiping dirt from her cheek. “I know enough. Besides, I wasn’t about to let them leave you here to rot.”
He looked at her again, really looked—at the grit under her nails, the small tremor in her hands, the steel in her expression. “You’re insane,”