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T he rainforest closed in around them, a tunnel of shifting shadows and tangled roots. Every pounding footstep sent pain lancing up Vivienne’s legs, but she didn’t dare slow. The sounds of pursuit—branches snapping, leaves rustling, the furious, guttural shouts of Enyo’s men—pressed against her like a rising tide, hungry and inevitable.

Lewis huffed between labored breaths, his voice laced with pain, held upright by an arm over Owen’s shoulders as they ran. "Maybe you should have been more specific with your deal!”

"I wasn't thinking about the fine print when I was trying to keep us alive!" Vivienne shot back, her heart threatening to escape her chest.

The rhythmic crash of waves still felt impossibly far away, their one shot at escape bobbing in the surf, waiting. We won’t make it in time. Enyo’s men moved like wolves—a relentless pack out for blood. If they caught up, there would be no second chances.

Vivienne’s mind raced, cataloging their dwindling options, their depleting strength. Where are the Apocrita when you actually need them? An idea pierced her panic—dangerous, reckless, barely worth considering. But it was all they had.

She surged forward, pushing past Florence and catching up to Cirrus at the front of the group. "Cirrus!"

He didn’t stop moving, his breathing ragged. "Banns, what—are you okay? We have to keep going."

"I know! But I have an idea. Do you remember the day after the ruins? We should be close to the?—"

Cirrus snapped his head toward her, eyes flaring. "You can’t be serious . "

"Completely serious," she confirmed, shoving down her fear.

"That’s a death trap, Banns."

"It’s a death trap for them, " she countered, her voice steady despite the chaos thrumming through her veins.

Florence’s gaze darted between them. "No. Absolutely not. I don’t even know what you’re talking about, but if it involves a ‘trap’ in this forsaken place, it’s a terrible idea."

Lewis' face drained of what little color remained. "Viv , please tell me you're not suggesting what I think you are."

"What other choice do we have?" she yelled, voice rising in desperation.

Owen, struggling to keep pace while supporting Lewis, managed a grim smirk. "Our options are all bad," he wheezed. "At least this one doesn’t involve us getting gutted immediately."

A furious shout echoed behind them, closer than before.

“Dammit, Banns,” Cirrus cursed, his expression twisting. Then, with a growl, he veered sharply to the right, cutting through thick underbrush, leaves slashing against their skin as they tore through the dense foliage.

We have minutes. Maybe less.

Their feet pounded against the earth, pushing forward, and then—there it was. The clearing.

A long, corridor-like expanse of rainforest stretched before them, lined with the monstrous Mortivora arbori . Their vine-wrapped bodies lay still, their jagged, hungry maws shut tight—waiting.

"What in the names of the gods are those?" Florence stumbled to a halt. "They look like..."

"The Venus Flytrap's evil cousins?" Lewis panted, hands braced against his knees. "That's exactly what they are. Only with much bigger appetites."

Vivienne shouted to the group, exaggerating her enunciation, "Come this way, I think we lost them!"

Cirrus grabbed her arm, "What are you doing?"

She grinned at him, "I'm luring flies into a trap."

They didn't have to wait long. Enyo’s men crashed into the clearing, weapons gleaming, their eyes gleeful with the hunt.

Vivienne spun, voice sharp as a blade. "RUN!"

The group bolted, sprinting through the treacherous gauntlet. Their feet barely skimmed the ground before the Mortivora arbori reacted—writhing vines shot out with alarming speed, sensing movement, coiling like striking vipers.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the clearing as one of Enyo’s men was ripped off his feet. The vines dragged him toward its gaping maw, his thrashing limbs no match for its crushing grip. His scream cut off with a sickening crunch as the plant’s enormous jaws snapped shut.

Another man tried to backpedal, his sword raised, but a different Mortivora struck lightning-fast. His blade clattered uselessly to the ground as the vines constricted, yanking him toward the darkness of its waiting mouth.

A chain reaction erupted—shouts of terror, steel swinging, the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground, helpless against the living nightmare closing in around them.

Florence gawked, half-running, half-stumbling beside Vivienne. "It’s working!"

"Move faster!" Cirrus barked, shoving Owen and Lewis ahead.

Vivienne’s lungs burned, each breath raw as she forced her legs to keep moving. Every muscle screamed for mercy, but stopping meant death. Behind them, the jungle shrieked with the sounds of slaughter—men’s dying screams cut short as the Mortivora arbori’s ravenous tendrils coiled around their prey. The wet crunch of bones breaking, the guttural hisses of the monstrous plants, and the desperate, ragged pleas of Enyo’s men filled the air.

She fought the instinct to look back. If she did, she might hesitate. If she hesitated, she might fall. And if she fell— No. Keep running.

At last, they broke through to the other side of the Mortivora arbori’s clearing. Vivienne’s heart tore from her chest, her vision blurring at the edges.

Lewis doubled over, hands braced on his knees, gulping in air. "Holy shit, we made it," he wheezed, his face slick with sweat and grime.

Owen groaned, still clutching his side, his expression twisted with pain. "Vivienne, you’re insane."

"An insane genius," Cirrus corrected, grinning despite his breathless state.

Florence panted, hands on her narrow hips. "No. Just insane. Those things—I never want to see them again."

Vivienne barely heard them. Her mind buzzed with alarm, every nerve screaming at her. They weren’t safe. Not yet.

The rainforest behind them had gone eerily still, but the danger hadn’t passed. But she knew the men who survived would be regrouping. Hunting them.

"Keep moving," Owen ordered, breath still heavy.

"The beach is close," Cirrus added, wiping sweat from his brow.

Vivienne forced her legs to move despite the overwhelming exhaustion. The scent of salt thickened in the air, the distant crash of waves beckoning them forward. Hope flickered in her chest.

Vivienne staggered onto the beach, nearly collapsing as her boots met the cool, sinking sand.

Then—shouts.

Low, guttural, and growing louder.

"They’re gaining on us!" Florence warned, a flash of fear in her voice.

Vivienne snapped her head around. Figures burst from the tree line, sprinting toward them. Shadows twisted in the moonlight—Enyo’s men, weapons raised, rage burning in their eyes.

Adrenaline jolted through her body, making her lightheaded. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out—a silent scream trapped in her throat. We’re going to die.

"GO, GO, GO!" Cirrus roared.

He and Florence sprinted ahead, reaching the longboat where it bobbed in the shallow surf. They shoved against the hull, muscles straining as they fought to push it into deeper water.

Vivienne turned, breath hitching as she saw how close Enyo’s men were. Too close.

Cirrus seized her hand, yanking her into the boat. She stumbled into the rocking vessel, nearly losing her balance as it lurched with the waves.

"Row!" Cirrus barked, tossing her an oar.

Owen and Lewis scrambled in behind them, nearly capsizing the longboat in their frantic desperation. Florence collapsed into her seat, seizing another oar. The wooden planks groaned under their weight as they fought against the tide.

A sharp cry rang out—one of Enyo’s men had reached the shore.

Vivienne twisted just in time to see a hulking brute barreling through the shallows. His face was twisted with rage, his sword glinting under the moon. A single thought filled her mind: He’s going to reach us.

Florence shouted, “Banner, DUCK!”

Vivienne tucked her head to her knees as Florence grabbed the nearest oar and swung. The solid wood connected with the sailor’s chest in a sickening thud. The force knocked him backward, sending him sprawling into the surf. He hit the water with a choked gasp, his sword vanishing beneath the waves.

But more were coming.

More of Enyo’s men reached the longboat, splashing through the shallows. One lunged, grabbing hold of the hull to pull himself in.

Owen didn’t hesitate. He slammed his boot against the man’s face, sending him reeling backward into the water.

Cirrus, still outside the boat, swung his cutlass at the second attacker. Their blades clashed, metal singing as sparks flew in the moonlight. The man was strong, driving Cirrus back with raw force.

"Cirrus!" Vivienne cried.

The moment of distraction cost the sailor his advantage. Cirrus ducked beneath the next swing and slammed the pommel of his cutlass into the man's temple. The sailor crumpled into the waves.

A third attacker reached them, his short sword flashing in the moonlight as he swung at Florence. She barely managed to twist out of the way, the blade slicing through her sleeve. With a furious snarl, she retaliated, whipping her knife across his arm.Blood sprayed into the surf. The man howled, his grip faltering.

Vivienne seized the opening. She kicked him square in the chest, knocking him back into the waves. He flailed, cursing, before vanishing beneath the tide.

"Get in the damn boat!" Florence yelled.

Cirrus hoisted himself up, tumbling onto the wooden planks with a breathless grunt. "Row!" he yelled, grabbing an oar.

Another man grabbed the back of the boat, attempting to haul himself over.

Lewis reacted first. With a wild, desperate yell, he swung his own oar like a club. It cracked against the sailor’s fingers, and he let out a strangled cry, releasing his hold.

"Not today!" Lewis gasped, shaking out his own stinging hands. “No. More. Cardio.”

"Keep pushing!" Owen barked, muscles straining as he rowed.

The longboat surged forward, the tide finally pulling them free of the shallows. On the shore, Enyo’s men clambered into the water, but it was too late.

The longboat was out of their reach.

For several heartbeats, no one spoke. They only exchanged glances of shock and disbelief.

Vivienne slumped back against the boat’s wooden side, her pulse still hammering in her ears.

Cirrus met her gaze, his eyes dark with lingering adrenaline. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. "We made it," he rasped.

"Barely," Vivienne muttered, her grip still tight on the oar.

Owen exhaled a shaky laugh, his head tilting back. "I’ll take barely over not at all."

Lewis groaned, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Here’s to not getting eaten or stabbed."

Florence lifted an invisible glass, deadpan. "I’ll drink to that."

Their laughter was strained but real.

Vivienne turned back to the darkened shore, unease coiling deep in her gut.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.