The night is thick with humidity, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the faint metallic tang of blood. The jungle around us is alive with movement—not all of it human.

I move ahead, boots pressing silently into the dirt, rifle steady in my hands. She’s right behind me. I don’t need to turn around to check—I can feel her presence, just like I always do. We’ve fought side by side for years. She knows how I move. I know how she breathes.

The mission is simple: infiltrate, gather intel, get out. Simple never means easy. We’re outnumbered, deep in enemy territory, and if this goes south, there’s no backup coming.

A soft static crackles in my earpiece. Her voice comes through, quiet, steady.

“Two hostiles on the ridge, moving west. They don’t see us yet.”

I smirk slightly beneath the mask. Always sharp. Always watching.

“Copy,” I murmur back, my voice barely above a breath.

We move in sync—no hesitation, no wasted motion. I push forward while she covers my six, her sniper rifle a silent promise that nothing will touch me before she drops it.

A distant noise—a branch snapping. Not an animal. A mistake.

Enemy.

I press my back to a tree, hand raised in a silent signal. I hear her stop behind me, her breathing even, waiting for my call. She trusts me to lead. I trust her to follow.

The patrol steps closer—too close. They never hear me coming. One knife to the throat, one silenced shot from her rifle. Two bodies drop before they can make a sound.

I glance back at her. Green eyes meet mine through the dark. Steady. Unshaken. Just like always.

I nod once. She nods back. No words needed.

We move.

This mission isn’t over yet.