The drone hit the earth like a dropped bird—wings curled, eyes glassed. It pinwheeled once, caught a vine, and slammed into a gnarled root with a sickening crunch. Its husk smoldered briefly, exhaling one last hiss of static before going still.
No more recon.
No more thermal pings. No motion overlays. No proximity alerts.
No more warnings.
We were blind.
"Move!" Anthony barked, already shoving through the tangle of branches ahead. His blade sliced low across a patch of thornvines. "Evac's still ahead! We're not stopping now."
No one argued. We didn't need to. The sound of the drone crashing had rung through the jungle like a starting gun. Anyone in a five-kilometer radius knew exactly where we were now. If someone wasn't tracking us before, they were now.
And if someone already had our scent?
Then we were being hunted.
