CHAPTER 130: 130

Hunter crouched in the undergrowth, breath slow and steady. The mercenaries were close—boots and rifles sweeping through the brush as they hunted him.

He watched their shadows slip between tree trunks, looking for the right moment to strike.

Then his phone beeped—twice.

The sound cut through the night, sharp and clear. Hunter froze. He knew that special tone too well.

For months after Luna’s death, Hunter refused to believe it.

The thought of her being gone forever was something he couldn’t bring himself to face.

In the quiet corners of his mind, he clung to the belief that she was out there somewhere, alive, watching from the shadows.

Every day he waited for a command that never came, some sign that she still guided them.

Like the other phantoms, he carried grief, but his pain had a sharper edge—because to him, Luna was more than a leader.

She was family. She had saved him when no one else had, given him purpose when he had nothing.

Losing her had left a hollow wound that no fight, no mission, no kill could ever heal.

And yet, he never let go. He kept the portal open, his line of connection to her, as if willing her voice to return.

Every night he hoped for a miracle, every morning he woke with the same silent prayer: let her have survived.

That small flicker of hope was the only thing that kept him from breaking down completely.

It was the thin thread that held him together, even as rage for revenge burned hotter in his chest.

Then, weeks ago, the impossible had happened—that fragile hope turned into certainty. Luna was alive.

From that day forward, Hunter had checked his phone endlessly, waiting for her to reach out.

Each time it stayed silent, he reminded himself that she would. And now, at last, the wait was over.

His screen lit up with her signal, and his heart pounded with something he hadn’t felt in a long time—purpose. His boss had given him a mission.

And he would not fail her.

His hand shook just a little as he thumbed the screen.

A short message from her.

A smirk pulled at his lips before he even opened it.

He sent a quick reply, fingers moving as if on muscle memory, then slid the phone back into his pocket.

There was no time to celebrate. He needs to find a woman named Abigail Kristoffa and he is sure to deliver her to Luna.

He turned his head to the oncoming men and readied his rifle.

From his hiding place he pulled two smoke grenades and his machine gun.

When the nearest group stepped into the moonlight, Hunter fired—short, precise bursts that dropped three of them before they even knew what hit them.

He rolled out of the bushes, hitting the trunk of a tree for cover and firing again. Bullets chewed through leaves and bark.

The remaining mercenaries froze, confused and scared. They could not find the shooter.

By the time they swore they had a bearing on him, Hunter had already made them into corpses on the jungle floor.

When the last man fell, Hunter wiped his face with the back of his hand and moved fast toward Knight’s position.

He kept low, listening.

Somewhere ahead he heard softer sounds—voices that were not hostile.

He knew the cave had to be close.

Hunter tapped his earpiece. "Knight, I’m near. Where exactly are you?"

Knight answered quickly, his voice calm. "Hold. I’ll send my location."

When Hunter reached the spot, he crept to the edge of the clearing and scanned the trees.

His eyes caught movement—figures hiding in bushes, rifles ready. He counted them silently, then spoke into his comm.

"Four are near the cave’s right side," Hunter said in a low voice.

"Five more are hiding in the bushes by the entrance.

Around thirty are scattered through the jungle, searching, and fifteen are stationed on the west side, moving toward the north."

He paused, his eyes sweeping the terrain. "They’ve got a rough idea where you’re hiding.

I checked the map—the cave stretches north and connects to the port.

There should be passages or tunnels leading that way. Find them. But we need to move fast.

We have to reach before they do."

Knight’s short hum came back. "Copy. Hold tight."

Hunter didn’t wait. He knelt, aimed carefully, and picked off the hidden men first—one by one—clearing the line toward the cave entrance.

Each shot was quick and measured. No panic. No waste.

Inside the cave, Knight kept the rescued close. The people shook and pressed together like frightened birds.

A small child clung to a woman who could barely meet his eyes. An old man whispered a prayer under his breath.

Knight tapped his watch and a map flickered on the screen—an image that made him smile.

Even though the island’s signals were supposed to be jammed, the GPS on his watch still found a path.

He had Luna’s tech to thank; she had built them better tools than anything the elites had.

He brought the watch closer to his face. The real-time tracker showed the cave’s inner tunnels and the coastline beyond.

The map matched Hunter’s words—the cave opened out near the sea. More than one tunnel ran through the rock.

On an island this tightly guarded, that meant a secret route was possible.

Knight looked at the frightened group and then at the narrow mouth of the cave. "Listen," he said, voice steady and soft.

"We have to move. There are tunnels that lead north to the port. Stay close. Do exactly as I say."

One of the rescued, a woman Hunter had given the vial to, blinked and asked, voice small, "Will we be safe?"

Knight put a hand on her shoulder. "I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll get you to the water. Have faith."

Hunter swept his gaze across the trees one last time.

He saw fresh tracks leading into the brush—the search teams were closing in but not yet on top of them.

He spoke into the comm, his voice low but firm, loud enough for only Knight to hear.

"I’ve cleared the right side. Move now."

Knight nodded once. "Move north. Quiet and quick. Stick to the right wall. I’ll guide you."

"We’ll mark the way—follow us quickly," Knight said through the speaker.

Hunter smirked at the words.

Without hesitation, he moved into action, picking off the hidden mercenaries with precise shots.

One by one, he cleared the path, making a way into the cave for the others.

Knight and the people slipped into the cave like shadows, moving quickly and quietly into the dark.

The air inside was cool and smelled of salt and damp rock.

The only source of light came from the torch in Knight’s hand as he guided their way through the cave.

The rescued shuffled forward, knees weak, but their steps were sure with Knight leading.

Outside, as Hunter was clearing the last of the hidden mercenaries, another group appeared from the ridge.

At their head was the old man himself, his coat snapping in the wind, eyes burning with rage.

He raised his voice, the command echoing through the trees. "They went through this cave.

Follow them! Kill them all. Not a single soul leaves this island alive!"

His words sent a chill even through his own men. In unison, the group bowed their heads.

"Yes, Master." With rifles raised and boots pounding, they marched toward the cave entrance.

Hunter’s sharp eyes caught them immediately.

His gut tightened. He didn’t waste a second—he slipped into the shadows of the entrance, following them inside.

Each step was silent, precise, his body low and his rifle ready.

He pressed his comm. "Knight—old man’s team just entered the cave. They’re moving fast. Be ready."

Inside, Knight’s gaze hardened for only a breath before snapping into action.

His torchlight swept over pale, frightened faces, and he raised his voice just enough for all to hear.

"We move fast now—no noise," Knight ordered, his voice sharp with urgency.

The rescued understood at once.

Fear and the will to live pushed them into action.

They quickened their pace, footsteps echoing against the damp stone.

Those who were weak, stumbling or barely able to stand, were supported by the others who still had strength left in them.

Together, they moved as one, driven by the desperate need to escape.

Hunter followed the group that had entered with the old man, moving like a shadow between the jagged rocks.

These weren’t ordinary guards—he could tell by the way they moved. Their steps were sharp, their eyes scanning every corner.

They were trained mercenaries, far more skilled than the ones he had already dealt with.

Up close, Hunter noticed something else.

Their movements were unnaturally precise, too fast, too steady. The gleam of metal caught in the dim torchlight.

Not just men... he thought grimly. They’ve been enhanced. Parts of their bodies were mechanical, their strength pushed beyond human.

Hunter’s gaze hardened.