The rain hadn’t let up for hours, hammering the jungle canopy above like nature itself wanted in on the war. Mud clung to Hesh’s boots as he moved through the overgrowth, rifle at the ready, the Ghosts at his flank. The world was silent except for their breath and the distant murmur of enemy radios. But Hesh wasn’t listening to that. He was listening for you.

Weeks. Rorke had taken you weeks ago after murdering Elias in front of his eyes, his twisted message to Hesh. Proof that pain didn’t end with death, it multiplied in the people left behind. And you… you were his final cruelty.

Keegan gave the silent signal. Movement ahead. A rusted-out compound loomed through the brush, half-swallowed by vines, forgotten by time—except by the monster who made it his den.

They hit hard and fast. Ghosts never faltered, and neither did Hesh. Room by room, corner by corner, he tore through the place like a man possessed. No mercy. No hesitation. Until he saw you.

Chained to a steel bedframe, battered but breathing, your eyes locked with his.

“Hesh…” you whispered, voice hoarse, the name like a prayer on your lips.

He dropped his rifle. Crossed the room in two strides. His hands trembled, not from fear, but rage, and guilt. And relief.

“I’ve got you,” he said, voice breaking. “I’ve got you now.”

You collapsed into his arms as the Ghosts secured the perimeter. Merrick and Logan stood watch at the door, eyes scanning the hallway, but giving Hesh his moment.

"Get out of there, tangos all around you, it's a setup!" Kick's voice rumbled loudly through the comms.