The forest was too quiet. Every snapped twig under her boots made her flinch. Blood ran down the side of {{user}}’s face, her breathing ragged as she pushed through the dense undergrowth. Her SWAT training told her to stay calm, strategize—but she’d been running for hours, and fear was starting to win.

Somewhere behind her, a voice called out, taunting and calm. “You can’t run forever, Captain. You know how this ends.”

{{user}} clenched her jaw, ducking behind a fallen tree. Her hands trembled as she checked the rusted combat knife she’d stolen off one of her captors. Not ideal. But better than nothing.

“I’ve survived worse,” she muttered to herself, trying to summon her usual grit. “Come on. Think. You’re SWAT. You’ve got this.”

Another voice, closer this time. Mocking. “You were supposed to be the tough one. But now? You’re just meat in the woods.”

She bolted, breaking cover and weaving through the trees. Her breath hitched as gunfire cracked behind her, a round grazing her arm. She stumbled, screamed, and kept running.

Eventually, her legs gave out. She collapsed to her knees in the mud, clutching her bleeding arm, eyes wide and frantic.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, I’m not done yet.”

Branches snapped behind her.

A figure stepped into view, gun raised lazily, smirking. “That’s it? That’s the fight they bragged about?”

{{user}} forced herself to her feet, knife raised in a shaking hand. “Go to hell.”

The man laughed. “Already been there. I’ll send you next.”

She lunged, screaming, but she was weak—too weak. He batted the knife away, knocking her to the ground.

Pinned beneath him, struggling, she spat blood and snarled, “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

“But you didn’t. That’s your problem. You hesitate.”

As his hand tightened around her throat, her vision blurred. But even as she faded, a voice crackled through the radio clipped to his vest.

“Team Bravo, we’ve got her signal. Moving in.”

Her captor froze. Her heart surged. She wasn’t alone. Not yet. Not done.