Chapter 21
Triton
THE OTHER TERRORIST was nearby—I could hear him trying to slip across the sand. Something on his tactical vest was clinking quietly, but not so quietly his approach was invisible. And thankfully, I’d gotten to his teammate before he’d cried out.
I stalked the sound, using every bit of my training. Every muscle was taut, every sense alert and searching, every movement, every silent footstep, precisely where it needed to be without wasting energy. The world slipped away until all I could sense was what I needed to, falling into that place where thought wasn’t needed, only action and reaction, where I could see the successive movements I would need to overcome.
The man had found the brackish pool that led to the waterfall, lurking around the water looking for tracks. Ashley, thankfully, wasn’t there. I’d seen a flash of her for an instant behind one of the boulders near the waterfall. It was a good hiding place, with the advantage of a heightened vantage point and the sound of the water to mask any of her noises. Whether any of that had gone into her calculations, I didn’t know.
When the terrorist was far enough ahead of me, I slipped into the water. It was chill against my skin but deep enough to follow with only my eyes and the top of my head above the surface as I followed the man like a crocodile, all my years of SEAL training behind me. The other terrorist’s knife was still clutched tightly in my hand—at least now, I had a weapon.
The terrorist continued up the banks, towards where Ashley had hidden. I only hoped she didn’t do anything reckless. I’d discovered she had a level head, but fear was a powerful motivator and the enemy of rational thought.
The man began to move inland toward our makeshift camp. But he stopped when he saw Ashley’s bra hanging from a branch where she’d left it to dry the day before, after washing it in the waterfall. The plunging waterfall covering my noise, I rose, knife in my hand, and crept towards his exposed back, slowly, slowly, slowly—
My hold tightened on the haft of the knife, my gaze trained on the spot on the terrorist’s neck into which I would plunge the blade. The blow would drop him like a stone, killing him instantly. I raised the knife, footstep after footstep bringing me closer, closer, until I was within striking distance. Breath filled my lungs, every muscle in my body tightening, ready to bring the knife down.
A scream echoed across the beach above the sound of the surf and the waterfall, springing off the rocks like a siren. The terrorist spun around, his gaze flashing toward the boulders before jerking to me. They widened, then narrowed as he turned to face me, dipped his head, and drove towards me in one smooth movement.
I barely managed to duck away in time, but not far enough. The man’s forward momentum caught me on the shoulder and spun me around, throwing me off balance enough that I had to scramble to remain on my feet.
My stumble gave the terrorist enough time to stop and turn, and he came at me again before I could shift my trajectory. We collided, tumbling to the ground in a writhing mass of arms and legs, a blow knocking the knife out of my hand. It slid a yard away, coming to rest half-buried in the sand.
A blow glanced across my face, and I struck back with a punch that landed on a cheek and a kick that produced a pained grunt. But the force wasn’t enough, and we struggled, grappling for control, rolling in the sand until the man was suddenly on top of me, pinning me to the ground.
Pain blossomed in my jaw as a fist made contact with my cheek, then another, and another, until I saw stars in front of my eyes, and I stopped struggling for half a heartbeat. But it was all the terrorist needed to wrap his hands around my throat and begin to squeeze.
My fingers dug into the tendons of his wrist, but half of my mind was on the fact that I couldn’t breathe, and the hands were trying to crush my windpipe. The terrorist was strong, and I knew I only had moments before I wouldn’t be able to fight back enough to save myself.
I let go of the man’s wrists, and the pressure increased. But I was already in motion, bringing my arms up and back and then down in a scissor motion onto his with as much strength as I had. The movement broke the terrorist’s hold, collapsing his arms and trapping them within mine while I dug the heel of one foot into the sand and shoved my hips up and over.
Caught in the movement, the terrorist tumbled with a muffled grunt of pain until we faced one another, lying in the sand. I brought my knee up, striking the spot between the legs. I heard a muffled cry but didn’t wait to see the result, already up and scrambling for the knife, wheezing and gasping the air back into my starved lungs through a tight throat.
My fingers were closing around the hilt of the big knife when I felt a jerk, and something pulled me back. Then a knee landed in my side, the one with the barely healed bullet wound. White-hot pain shot through me like a lightning bolt, blacking my vision for a flash. I doubled over, curling into myself, my entire body one spot of pain. I barely uncurled in enough time to block his next blow, and we were struggling again, landing desperate punches and kicks, scattering sand and leaves. I kicked out, but the terrorist dodged, using his momentum to rise over me like some angel of death.
But I wasn’t going to die. Not today, not now, not after surviving this long. Not with Ashley’s terrified scream still ringing in my head and driving me on.
As he came down, my hand shot up, my palm crashing into the underside of the man’s chin. He jerked back, and I had enough room to smash my closed fist into the side of his head. The terrorist grabbed at his face, one eye closed against the pain, and I twisted back and away from him, diving for the knife.
This time, I managed to grab it before I felt the man looming behind me. I twisted towards him, using my leverage and momentum to propel me forward. The knife sank into his unprotected neck, nearly the same place I’d targeted earlier, and I dragged the blade down.
The terrorist dropped like a stone, his eyes going wide as he fell, his hand clapping to the place on his neck from which blood was suddenly gushing, coursing through his fingers as he tried desperately to stop the flow. But there would be no stopping it—with his carotid artery severed, he would bleed out in only a few minutes.
I left him sprawled there, blood staining the sand around him, and sprinted towards Ashley as another scream ripped through the air, full of terrified panic. My training dropped away and all I could think about was getting to Ashley, until the adrenaline pounding through my veins was all I could feel, what might have happened to her the only thing I could see.
Rounding the boulders, the knife still in my hand, I saw the reality; I’d failed to kill the first man. At least, not fast enough. He had managed to get up, a trail of blood from his stomach wound marking his path, and now he was clinging to her ankle as she tried to scramble away.
“Hey!” The words left my mouth before I knew they were mine, echoing like the report of a gun against the rocks. Ashley’s and the terrorist’s heads jerked towards the sound, but with far different results. Ashley’s look of wide-eyed terror melted to one of terrified gratitude. But the terrorist’s eyes narrowed, and he managed to roll up to his feet, stumbling as he wrapped one arm around his stomach. But his other hand came up, and I realized a split second before he fired it that he had a gun. I ducked behind the boulder just as I heard it go off, shards of rock splintering into the air as the bullet hit where I’d been a heartbeat before.
I popped back up over the rock, and my heart stopped. The terrorist wasn’t aiming his gun at me anymore—he had it trained directly on Ashley.
Time slowed as my mind flipped frantically for options, a cry of her name on my lips, my gaze trained on her terror-filled face. But in her hands, above her head, she held a huge rock. I saw the terrorist’s arm start to come around, his finger squeezing down on the trigger, and the air filling my lungs exploded as an inarticulate shout. The soldier's head jerked towards me just as Ashley hurled the rock at his head.
Out of pure reaction, the terrorist’s hand and the gun it was holding swung towards me. The boulder smashed into his head and wrenched him off balance just as his finger pulled the trigger. Ashley cried out and curled in on herself, covering her head with her arms, at the sharp report of the gun. But the shot went wide, the bullet hitting the trunk of one of the pear trees in a spray of wood.
In the time it took his body to hit the ground, I was across the distance between us. I grabbed the gun from the lifeless fingers with one hand and Ashley’s wrist with the other, so I could propel us down the rocks and to the beach.
We splashed through the waves and swam out to the boat bobbing in the water. I pulled Ashley up after me, and we tumbled onto the deck. I barely made it to my feet before I was scrambling through their things, digging until I found a radio.
Heartbeat hammering in my ears, I turned it to the frequency I knew by heart and called it in.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Lieutenant Triton Rusev of the United States Navy, requesting assistance.”