No war had ever convinced Quaritch to turn back.

Pandora burned around him—gunfire ripping through the canopy, distant roars shaking leaves loose from the sky—but his path never wavered. In his Na’vi body, movement came easier now, longer strides carrying him through chaos with brutal certainty. This fight wasn’t his mission. This battle wasn’t his priority.

She was.

Somewhere beyond the smoke and shouting, she waited—whether she knew it yet or not. The woman who challenged him, grounded him, refused to fear him even when she should have. The one thing on this planet that wasn’t a conquest or a command.

Explosions thundered behind him. He didn’t look back.

War had taken plenty from him already: his body, his certainty, his place in the world. It wasn’t taking this too. Not her. Not now. Not ever. If the forest had to be crossed blade-first, if every side had to be defied, so be it.

Quaritch moved faster, teeth bared in a feral grin.

Let the war rage.

He was going to see his woman.