The night air was heavy, thick with moisture, and every sound seemed to carry for miles. As Alex crouched behind a dense thicket of bushes, the distant footsteps grew closer. The voices were unmistakable now—gruff, determined, and closing in fast. The Syndicate had found their trail, and this time, there was no escaping the inevitable confrontation.
"We need to move. Now," Jim whispered, his eyes scanning the tree line for any sign of movement. His breath was shallow, his pulse erratic, but his hands remained steady on his weapon. His instincts had saved them more than once already, and they weren't about to fail him now.
"Where to?" Alex asked, their voice betraying a rising panic. "We're trapped here. There's no way out of this clearing except through them."
