Chapter 21: Shadows of the Wild

Seeing Carlos’s relentlessly persistent question Jamie closed her eyes and pretended to faint again

On seeing this Carlos’ rough voice echoed through the dense jungle as he shook Jamie awake, his frustration evident. "Wake up, girl. I don't have time for this," he growled, gripping her by the arm.

Jamie’s eyelids fluttered open, even though she was pretending but it was true that her body aching from exhaustion. Her blue eyes, still heavy with drowsiness, took in her surroundings—the dimly lit forest, the crackling campfire, and Carlos’ looming figure. Fear surged through her veins. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, but the soreness in her body told her it had been too long and there was still no help in sight.

"I need information," Carlos sneered, crouching before her. "Who exactly were those people chasing us? What are they after? What makes you so damn valuable?"

Jamie remained silent, pressing her lips together. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Carlos' patience, already worn thin, finally snapped. With a growl of frustration, he raised his hand and struck her across the face. The impact sent her head snapping to the side, her cheek stinging as pain bloomed across her skin. A weak whimper escaped her lips as she curled inward, her body trembling.

The moment he saw Jamie flinch and recoil from his violence, something primal stirred in Carlos—a darker hunger. His breathing grew heavier, his pupils dilated as he reached for her wrist.

But just as his rough fingers made contact with her skin, a sharp, searing pain exploded at the back of his head.

Carlos let out a guttural scream, staggering forward as his vision swam. His fingers brushed against the wound, coming away slick with blood. He barely had time to process what had happened before a pair of strong hands seized him from behind.

Solomon.

With an iron grip, Solomon wrapped his arms around Carlos’ throat, pulling him into a brutal chokehold. The ex-mercenary thrashed violently, clawing at Solomon’s forearm as his breath hitched. Desperation set in as he elbowed Solomon’s ribs, but the man held firm.

Carlos’ vision darkened. His lungs burned. He needed to break free.

With sheer brute force, he slammed his head backward, cracking it against Solomon’s nose. The hold loosened for a split second—just enough for Carlos to break free and stumble forward, gasping for air.

Solomon wiped the blood from his nose, his gaze cold. “You call yourself a rebel fighting against the oppressive Government? You should be shot dead for what you were going to do.”

Carlos didn’t reply. Instead, he lunged for his rifle, rolling across the ground and grabbing the weapon in one swift motion. He aimed and fired.

The jungle erupted with gunfire.

Solomon dove behind a thick tree trunk as bullets whizzed past, carving splinters from the bark. Carlos, breathing heavily, kept firing blindly in the dark. His hands were unsteady, his vision blurred from the earlier blow, but he kept pulling the trigger.

Solomon knew he had to act fast. He was good, but even he couldn't dodge bullets forever. He prepared to move, but suddenly, an unexpected force shifted the battle.

Jamie.

She had been watching everything unfold, frozen with fear. But when she saw Solomon in danger, something inside her snapped.

Grabbing the same bloodied, thorny branch Solomon had used earlier, she forced herself to her feet. Heart pounding, she crept behind Carlos, raising the branch high above her head.

And then she struck.

The branch slammed into the back of Carlos’ skull.

Carlos howled in agony, stumbling forward as his vision went black for a moment. His gun slipped from his grasp, landing in the dirt.

But not before he squeezed the trigger one last time.

The gunshot rang out in the night.

Solomon felt the impact before he heard the sound.

A sharp, searing pain shot through his leg. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding calf. The pain was blinding, but not enough to stop him.

Jamie let out a horrified scream. “Solomon!”

Carlos, dazed and weakened, attempted to crawl toward his gun. But Solomon gritted his teeth and forced himself up, lunging forward.

With his last ounce of strength, he wrapped his hands around Carlos’ throat and squeezed.

Carlos thrashed beneath him, but he was too weak to fight back. Solomon didn't let go until the mercenary's eyes rolled back and his body went limp.

Breathing heavily, Solomon released his grip and sat back, his hands shaking. He wasn’t sure if Carlos was dead or just unconscious, but he didn’t care. Either way, he wasn’t a threat anymore.

The pain in his leg was unbearable, but it didn’t matter right now. What mattered was Jamie.

He turned his head and saw her standing there, trembling, her hands clenched into fists. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rushed toward him.

“You’re hurt,” she sobbed, dropping to her knees beside him. “You’re bleeding so much!”

“I’m fine,” Solomon lied, wincing. “Just a scratch.”

Jamie didn’t believe him. She grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck in a desperate hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, over and over again. “Thank you for coming for me.”

Solomon hesitated for a moment before patting her back, his own expression unreadable.

The ordeal had taken its toll on Jamie. She had been hunted, captured, tossed between enemies like a bargaining chip. And through it all, she had been powerless.

Until now.

For the first time, she had fought back.

And that changed everything.

Solomon looked down at her, his expression softening.

“You did good, kid,” he murmured.

Jamie sniffled, her grip on him tightening.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel helpless.

For the first time, she felt like she had the power to fight.

And she wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from her again.

Solomon took no chances. He swiftly gathered all of Carlos' weapons—his rifle, sidearm, and knife—tossing them far out of reach before securing the unconscious mercenary with thick forest vines. Tightening the knots, he ensured Carlos wouldn’t be getting free anytime soon. Then, without hesitation, Solomon crouched down and began slapping Carlos repeatedly across the face. Each hit was sharp and deliberate, dragging the dazed man back to consciousness. Carlos groaned, his eyes fluttering open, only to find Solomon’s cold, unyielding gaze staring down at him.

"The only reason you're still breathing," Solomon said in a low, dangerous voice, "is because I need a guide. You're taking me to the village under Esteban’s control—the same place you were born in."