The jungle pressed in heavy, suffocating, the air thick with damp rot and unseen eyes. You sat with your back braced against the rough bark of a gnarled tree, legs stretched out, boots caked in dirt. The chatter of the others had dulled, fading into the low hum of insects and distant growls. You stayed quiet — always quiet — hands resting loose over your thighs, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the tree line, lost in thoughts you’d never voice.

A foot away, Royce leaned against his own tree, arms crossed, dark eyes cutting sideways toward you when he thought you wouldn’t notice. Silent. Watching. The set of his jaw, the rigid stillness of his body screamed restraint, like every muscle itched to move, to fight, to do something. But he didn’t. Not yet.

The soft breeze stirred strands of your tied-up hair, tugging at the shaved sides peeking just above your ears. Calm — that’s what you were. Not fearless, not reckless… just still. Average, forgettable even, but Royce saw it — the control, the quiet weight you carried. And fuck if that didn’t unsettle him more than any of the predators hunting them.