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“Kid’s got serious skills.” I ate slowly, making it last. “She understood the situation without being told. Brought exactly what we’d need.”

“She’s had to be practical her whole life. They all have.” Lauren accepted the tin cup, our fingers brushing as I passed it over. “It’s one of the things I love about this place. No one has much, but they share everything.”

We finished the meal in comfortable quiet, trading the cup back and forth to share water. The simple domesticity of it caught me off guard—when was the last time I’d shared a meal like this? Not a tactical necessity or mission requirement, just…eating with someone I was starting to genuinely like.

“Tell me about the extraction plans,” Lauren said as I rewrapped our remaining food. “What happens now?”

“Standard protocol is to get the primary objectives—your colleagues—to safety first. Probably to Guatemala or Mexico, somewhere beyond Silva’s reach.” I secured the bundle in my pack. “Then they’ll refuel, wait for a weather window, and come back for us.”

“How long?”

“Three days minimum. Maybe four or five, depending on the storm.” I didn’t mention my concerns about bullet damage causing mechanical failures that could delay things much longer. “We’ll have communications equipment in Puerto Esperanza. Can coordinate pickup once we’re there.”

“And if the weather doesn’t cooperate?”

“Then we adapt. Find alternate transport, wait it out, whatever’s necessary.” I stood, offering her a hand up. “But that’s tomorrow’s problem. Today, we walk.”

The afternoon brought the hurricane’s calling cards. Clouds massed overhead, dark and swollen. The canopy began to sway in fitful gusts, leaves showing their pale undersides. That peculiar pre-storm light painted everything in shades of green and gold.

We made camp early, finding shelter beneath a granite overhang. Lauren worked beside me without being asked, dragging palm fronds and branches to build a windbreak. Her movements were economical, efficient—she’d been paying attention to how I’d done it before.

As darkness gathered, she sorted medical supplies by flashlight while I reinforced our shelter. The first fat raindrops began to fall, promising worse to come.

She looked up from organizing bandages. “Do you mind talking about being in the Marines?”

“Do you have questions?”

“Just general nosy ones. But I can keep them to myself if you don’t like to talk about it.”

“I don’t mind.” I should have deflected. Should have maintained professional distance. Instead, I found myself answering. “The basics are: I enlisted. Made sergeant before I got out.”

“How many tours?”

“Five. Afghanistan, Iraq, back to Afghanistan. And a couple smaller scraps in Africa.”

“That’s a lot of combat time.”

“It’s what I knew how to do.”

She set aside the medical supplies, giving me her full attention. “What made you good at it? And don’t give me the technical answer. What really made you effective?”

The directness of her question caught me off guard. Most people danced around the subject of war, not wanting real answers. Lauren asked like she genuinely wanted to understand who I was beneath the military exterior.

“Staying functional when everything turns to chaos,” I said after a moment. “Making hard choices when there’s no good options. Keeping people breathing when the world’s trying to kill them.”

“Sounds familiar.” She gestured to our current situation with dry humor.

“Different uniform, same basic mission.”

“Is that why you went private sector? To keep protecting people?”

“Partly.” I adjusted my position against the rock wall, trying to get comfortable. “Civilian life felt…meaningless after combat. Like nothing had real consequences. Ethan Cross, owner of Citadel, offered me work that mattered.”

“Do you enjoy it? The protection details, extractions?”

“I’m good at keeping people alive.” I met her gaze directly. “Even stubborn doctors who insist on delivering babies during emergency evacuations.”

“My parents must have been thrilled to write that check.” Her tone carried equal parts affection and frustration. “They’re convinced I’m having some kind of extended teenage rebellion.”

“Are you?”

“Maybe a little.” She drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “But mostly, I just believe medical care should go where it’s needed most, not where it pays best.”

“Admirable philosophy.”

“Impractical philosophy, according to everyone I know.” She studied me in the dim light. “What about your family? Do they worry about your career choices?”

“No family left to worry.” The words came out flat. “Parents died in a car accident when I was eighteen. No siblings, never married, no kids.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been devastating.”

“It was a long time ago. Makes this kind of work simpler—no one waiting at home, wondering if I’ll make it back.”

Lauren’s expression shifted to something I couldn’t quite read. “Isn’t that lonely?”

The question landed somewhere soft and undefended. “You adapt to what you have.”

“That’s not the same as not being lonely.”

Thunder rolled overhead, closer now. The wind was building, driving rain under our shelter despite the windbreak. The palm fronds rattled and shook. Tomorrow would bring the real storm, and with it, harder travel through increasingly difficult terrain.

“We should rest while we can,” I said, steering away from emotional territory I wasn’t equipped to navigate. “Tomorrow’s going to test us both.”

Lauren stretched out on her makeshift bed, using her pack as a pillow. Within minutes, her breathing had evened into sleep. I envied her ability to shut down so completely—my own mind kept circling, calculating distances and dangers and contingencies.

Outside our shelter, the jungle was transforming. Wind bent trees that had stood for decades. Rain fell in sheets, turning the ground into sucking mud. This was just the outer bands—tomorrow would be worse.

Twenty-five kilometers of hostile territory between us and theoretical safety. Silva’s men potentially hunting us. A hurricane bearing down with increasing fury.

I checked my weapon one more time, then settled in to watch the storm build. Tomorrow, we’d find out if we were as tough as we needed to be.