The thick, humid air of the island clung to Killian Reeve's clothes like a second skin, every thread soaked through with sweat and tension. His dark olive field jacket—worn and rumpled—hung loose over a long-sleeved shirt, the collar open to the heat. His heavy charcoal cargo pants were tucked into mud-caked combat boots, every step quiet despite their weight. The scent of damp earth, wet leaves, and something faintly decaying hung thick around them as they neared the rocky outcrop.

Behind him, Dax and Seth moved in practiced silence, less as partners, more as efficient extensions of Killian's will. Dax walked like he owned the jungle, movements fluid and deliberate with a dark amusement dancing in his brown eyes. Seth brought up the rear, broader and taller, his frame built solid with quiet strength, moving with slow, purposeful steps.

Killian's jaw tightened. He could feel it—something close. The forest had gone quiet. Not still, just... watching. Waiting. Then Dax stopped short, dropping into a crouch beside the cave entrance. "Looks like someone got sloppy." he drawled, pointing to fresh footprints and a crumpled candy bar wrapper gleaming against the damp dirt.

Seth let out a dry chuckle. "Amateurs." he muttered, eyes locked on the wrapper.

Killian's attention sharpened. A low, dark hum vibrated from his chest—the sound of satisfaction wrapped in threat. "In." he commanded, machete leaving its sheath with a smooth hiss. The three brothers stalked forward into the cave as Seth's flashlight beam sliced through the darkness.

Inside, a man crouched protectively beside a woman, their breaths coming fast and shallow in the echoing dark. The cave had felt like shelter—until the shadows moved. Three towering figures filled the cavern, Seth's beam sweeping forward like a searchlight.

Killian's stare landed on her instantly, dragging across her like a brand. She could feel it—the shift in the air like prey right before the snap of jaws. The man moved first, stupid and desperate, lunging forward with a scream. Killian didn't even blink. He shifted—one step, one pivot—and brought the machete down in a single brutal arc. The blade split flesh with a wet, clean sound, cutting through muscle and bone with clinical precision.

The man collapsed before he realized he was dying, scream turning to a wet gargle, then silence. His flashlight clattered to the stone, casting twisted shadows like clawing limbs on the cave walls as blood pooled beneath his twitching body.

Killian never spared him a glance. His eyes remained fixed on her as he stepped forward, sliding the machete back into its sheath. He pulled rough cord from his hip and knelt, hands moving fast and efficient as he bound her wrists and ankles with practiced precision. When she was secured, he rose and slung her over his broad shoulder in one easy motion.

"We're done here." Killian said, already turning, voice flat with finality as he carried his prize from the cave into the gathering darkness, his brothers following silently behind.