Few hours later-
The rain fell in heavy sheets, turning the dimly lit alleyways into shimmering corridors of uncertainty. Neon signs flickered in the distance, their glow reflecting off the wet pavement as Raymond adjusted his collar, blending into the night.
This mission wasn't like Jeffrie's. He wasn't storming a facility or sneaking into a military compound—this was different. Luis Vega was being held in the heart of a cartel-run district, a place where whispers carried weight and mistakes ended in blood.
Azul's last intel suggested that Sable's forces hadn't locked Luis in a cell. Instead, he was being kept in a penthouse—watched, and controlled, but not imprisoned. That meant he still had value. And Raymond needed to find out why. He exhaled, his breath mixing with the cool night air. He'd always been good at playing the part. Tonight, he wasn't just a soldier, he was a ghost walking into a den of vipers, playing a game where trust was a currency, and betrayal could end in a bullet.
Dressed in a sharp suit, Raymond moved past the bouncers with ease, nodding at familiar faces. Cities like this all had the same rules: act like you belong, and no one questions you.
The pulsing bass of the club vibrated through the walls as he reached the VIP elevator. The man guarding it was built like a truck, tattoos snaking up his arms.
Raymond smirked. "Tell your boss I have business with Vega."
The guard didn't blink. "Vega isn't taking visitors."
Raymond leaned in; voice low. "Then he'll miss out on the deal of a lifetime." He slid a thick stack of bills into the guard's pocket, holding his gaze. "Be smart."
A tense pause. Then, the guard stepped aside. The elevator doors slid open.
Raymond stepped inside, adjusting his cuff as the doors sealed behind him. As soon as he was alone, he reached into his jacket, attached a silencer to his pistol with practiced ease, and exhaled.
No one left this room unless he said so.
The penthouse was luxurious—floor-to-ceiling windows, a fully stocked bar, and a panoramic view of the city. Raymond had seen places like this before. But he wasn't here for the view.
He moved like a shadow, stepping into the main lounge.
Luis Vega sat in a leather chair, a drink in one hand, a cigar in the other. He looked up, unsurprised. "Ray," he exhaled, smoke curling from his lips. "Took you long enough."
Raymond didn't lower his gun. "Then you know why I'm here."
Luis smirked, setting his drink down. "Sables had me under watch since the day he 'recruited' me. You think I'm here by choice?" He gestured toward the guards stationed at the doors. "You're not the only one walking into a trap."
Before Raymond could react, the guards moved.
The first man lunged, a knife flashing in the dim light.
Raymond sidestepped, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting it until the blade clattered to the floor. Another guard raised a pistol, Raymond was faster. A single, silenced shot dropped him before he could fire.
Luis flipped the table over, smashing a bottle across a third guard's face. "You always had bad timing," he muttered, ducking a wild swing.
Raymond finished off the last man with a precise shot, then turned to Luis.
"Are you coming or not?"
Luis wiped the blood from his lip and grinned. "Lead the way."
Alarms blared as they hit the hallway. More guards. More problems.
Luis grabbed a rifle off a fallen enforcer, checking the ammo with muscle memory. "You know how to make an exit, huh?"
Raymond smirked. "Stay close."
Gunfire rattled behind them as they sprinted through the corridors. The elevator was a death trap now—Raymond led them toward the emergency stairwell.
Azul's voice crackled through the comms. "Ray, you've got two minutes before reinforcements box you in. Move!"
They kicked open a rooftop door just as the helicopter's searchlights pierced through the storm.
But Sable's forces were waiting.
A squad of armored soldiers blocked the helipad, rifles raised.
Luis cursed. "Got a plan?"
Raymond cracked his knuckles. "Yeah. We don't die."
The fight was brutal—bullets tearing through the rain as they moved. Luis took a hit to the shoulder but powered through. Raymond took down the last soldier with a headshot before signaling the chopper.
They sprinted for the ramp as gunfire kicked up sparks around them. Luis grabbed Raymond's outstretched hand, pulling himself aboard just as the helicopter lifted off.
The penthouse burned below.
Luis exhaled, watching the flames. "You pulled me out of hell, man."
Raymond reloaded his pistol. "Welcome back to the fight."
Later — Hidden Compound, Northern Outskirts
The rain hadn't let up for hours.
Raymond stepped off the transport,
boots sinking slightly into the wet gravel as the doors sealed shut behind him.
The jungle loomed in the distance, dark and heavy with mist.
The compound's perimeter lights
flickered in the storm.
He spotted Jeffrie near the bikes—two
dirt-black machines prepped and waiting, engines humming under light covers.
Jeffrie was adjusting the strap on his chest rig, golden eyes narrowed beneath
the hood of his soaked jacket.
Lily stood in front of him, arms
crossed, not budging.
"You sure you're cleared for this?"
she asked, voice low but sharp. "Last time I patched you up, you were barely
standing."
Jeffrie didn't look up. "Still not."
"Not funny."
"I'm not joking."
She stepped closer, adjusting the
bandage under his jacket without asking. "Then try not to get shot again. I'm
tired of scraping pieces of you off the field."
Ray arrived just in time to catch that
last part.
"Aw, he's got a nurse who cares," he
teased, wiping rain from his face. "You going to tell her you're immortal yet,
or just keep testing the theory?"
Jeffrie smirked, slinging his rifle
over his back. "If I told her, she'd shoot me herself just to prove a point."
Lily handed him a small injector.
"Painkiller. You'll need it when the adrenaline wears off."
"Appreciate it." Jeffrie tucked it
into his belt. "Don't wait up."
Lily stared at both of them, soaked,
armed, and grinning like devils. "Idiots."
Jeffrie and Ray exchanged a nod.
Then they mounted their dirt bikes,
engines rumbling low under the rain. Without another word, they peeled off into
the jungle trail—mud spraying behind them, thunder rolling above.
The
jungle pulsed with life, rain hammering the thick canopy above. Jeffrie crouched
behind a fallen tree, his soaked tactical gear clinging to his skin. Beside
him, Raymond adjusted his earpiece, eyes scanning the compound ahead.
"Adrian
and Dante are inside. Heavily guarded," Azul's voice crackled through the
comms. "You've got a ten-minute window before patrol rotations change."
Jeffrie
exhaled sharply. "That's all we need."
Ray
smirked. "Guess I'm takin' the loud approach?"
"Make
it count," Jeffrie confirmed before slipping into the shadows.
Ray
grinned, pulled two grenades from his belt, and lobbed them over the fence. The
explosions lit up the night, sending shockwaves through the compound. Alarms
blared as enemy soldiers scrambled to respond.
Jeffrie
used the chaos to his advantage. Scaling the outer wall, he landed silently on
the other side, sprinting through the darkness, weaving between structures
until he reached the reinforced cell block where Adrian and Dante were being
held.
Inside,
Adrian sat slumped against the wall, hands bound behind him, face swollen but
still sharp with defiance. Across the room, Dante sagged in a chair, his head
lolling forward, barely conscious.
The
door barely creaked as Jeffrie stepped in—silent, lethal.
The
lone guard turned—too late.
A blur
of motion.
Jeffrie's
blade sliced across the man's throat in a single, efficient stroke.
The
body crumpled without a sound.
Jeffrie
moved to Adrian first, slicing through the restraints with a flick of his
wrist.
Adrian
flexed his wrists, wincing. "Took you long enough."
Jeffrie's
tone was flat. "Still breathing, aren't you?"
He was
already at Dante's side, crouching low, fingers at the man's throat.
Pulse—weak, but steady.
"Drugged?"
Jeffrie asked.
Adrian
nodded. "Something heavy. A neural suppressor. He's aware, just… muted."
Jeffrie
grabbed Dante's arm and pulled him upright. "Then he walks. I carry him if I
must."
Adrian
pushed off the wall, groaning but steady. "What's the exit?"
Jeffrie's
eyes narrowed. "Loud. Fast. Probably on fire."
Adrian
smirked. "Sounds like you."
Jeffrie
stood, slinging Dante's arm over his shoulder.
"Move.
Before they realize we're not ghosts."
They
exited the cell just as another explosion rattled the building. Ray had done
his job.
"We
got company!" Ray's voice came through the comms. "They called in an armored
convoy!"
"We
need an exit," Jeffrie said, tightening his grip around Dante's waist as they
moved, the man's weight dragging heavier with every step.
Adrian
pointed toward a side hallway. "Garage bay. They keep transports there. If we
can get to a truck, we're gone."
Ray's
voice crackled in their comms—urgent, strained.
"Y'all
better move, like now. We've got a goddamn tank rolling in!"
Jeffrie
didn't wait. "Move!"
They
burst into the garage as klaxons howled and red lights bathed the room.
Soldiers spun toward them—guns already rising.
Adrian
didn't hesitate. He grabbed an assault rifle off the wall rack mid-run and
opened fire, dropping two guards before they could fully turn. "Get the jeep!"
Jeffrie
threw open the nearest door, shoving Dante into the passenger seat. The man
groaned, barely conscious.
He
slid into the driver's seat and jammed the ignition.
Adrian
vaulted into the back, still laying down cover fire.
Outside—shouting.
The roar of an engine.
Ray
sprinted into view from across the open bay, bullets tearing through crates
around him, sparks and splinters flying.
"GO!"
Adrian shouted.
"He's
not in yet!" Jeffrie barked.
Ray
leaped—just as a bullet nicked his side. He landed hard in the backseat,
gritting his teeth.
"Drive!"
Jeffrie
floored the gas. The tires screamed as they peeled out of the garage.
Behind
them, the compound shook as an explosion tore through the east wall—flames
chasing them into the storm.
Enemy
vehicles roared to life in pursuit.
The
Chase Begins
Mud
sprayed up from the tires as the jeep tore through the jungle. Blacked-out SUVs
and armored trucks pursued them, headlights slicing through the rain. Gunfire
erupted, bullets shredding through the foliage.
"We
gotta lose these guys!" Adrian shouted, firing at their pursuers.
Ray
leaned out of the jeep, aiming. "Hold this steady, Jeff!"
Jeffrie
gritted his teeth, swerving to avoid a fallen tree. "Working on it!"
Ray
fired, taking out the tires of the nearest SUV. It flipped violently, rolling
into a tree. But the armored truck behind it kept coming.
"That
thing's got a mounted gun!" Adrian yelled.
Jeffrie
yanked the wheel hard, sending them crashing through thick underbrush. The
truck fired, ripping through the jungle where they had been moments before.
Dante
stirred beside him, groggy. "What's… happening?"
Jeffrie
didn't take his eyes off the road. Mud and foliage blurred past them as the
jeep bounced violently over the jungle path.
"Getting
you out," he said, voice steady despite the chaos.
Dante
blinked hard, breath catching in his throat as his surroundings came into
focus—the roar of the engine, the sting of wind and rain, the shouts, the
gunfire.
His
head whipped toward Jeffrie. "You're—You're Jeffrie…"
"Yeah."
Dante
exhaled, still trying to make sense of it all. "Are we in a war zone or a damn
movie?"
Jeffrie's
mouth twitched. "Depends on the ending."
A
missile shrieked past them and obliterated a section of the jungle behind
them—dirt and flame erupting into the sky.
Dante
flinched hard, ducking instinctively. "Holy shit!"
"All
right, that's it!" Ray snarled from the back. He reached under the seat, yanked
out a grenade launcher, and climbed halfway out of the vehicle, gripping the
roll cage.
"Time
to flip the script."
He
aimed—steady despite the bouncing jeep—and fired.
The
grenade tore through the storm and slammed into the pursuing armored truck,
detonating on impact.
The
vehicle veered sideways, flipped, and exploded into a burning wreck.
"Nice
shot," Adrian muttered from the back, still firing at the last few stragglers.
Jeffrie
gunned the engine harder. Trees blurred. Roots threatened to throw them
off-course.
"Bridge
ahead!" Adrian called out, urgency spiking.
Jeffrie's
eyes locked on a narrow, rickety bridge, swaying in the wind, barely wide
enough for the jeep.
He
didn't even blink.
"Hold
on!" he shouted.
Dante
clutched the seat, eyes wide. "You're not actually—"
"We
are."
The
jeep hit the incline, tires skidding on wet wood, the whole frame rattling as
they shot forward toward the abyss.
Behind
them, the last enemy SUV barreled after them—tires screeching, engine howling
through the storm.
Steel
grated. Wood cracked. The bridge groaned beneath its weight.
Dante
twisted his seat, eyes wide. "They're not stopping!"
Jeffrie
glanced in the rearview mirror. "They're not going to make it."
CRACK.
The
bridge snapped mid-span, a sickening shatter echoing through the canyon.
The
SUV launched off the splintering planks—hovered in the air for a breathless
second—
Then
plunged.
Screams.
Metal. Silence.
The
wreckage vanished into the fog below, swallowed by the abyss.
A gust
of wind ripped past them. The rest of the bridge collapsed in on itself, boards
and cables tumbling after the doomed vehicle.
For a
long moment, no one spoke.
Only
the sound of the rain. The jeep's engine. Their collective, stunned breathing.
Jeffrie
exhaled, knuckles still white on the steering wheel.
Ray
let out a slow whistle. "Damn. That was close."
Adrian
leaned back, smirking. "Clear enough for me."