Page 37 of Legacy's Destiny

Deacon woke instantly, his senses sharp and alert. Something had pulled him from sleep, cutting through the relentless pounding of the rain against the shelter's thatched roof. The storm outside was unrelenting, and the jungle was alive with a symphony of rain pelting leaves, water rushing over what had once been solid ground, and the occasional crack of thunder splitting the night. Yet amid it all, another sound had been faint, almost drowned out by the storm.

He strained his ears, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and smoke from the fire's dying embers. There it was again—a small, plaintive cry. His gaze shifted to Echo. Her hands twitched against the blanket, her legs jerking as though trying to outrun something in her dreams. A soft whimper escaped her parted lips, and the sight twisted something deep inside him.

Sliding closer, Deacon reached out and gently pressed his hand to her forehead. Relief washed over him when he found her skin cool and free of fever, but the tension in her body told him she was trapped in a nightmare. He ran his hand carefully down her shoulder and along her arm, his touch light and meant to soothe.

She startled awake with a gasp, her wide eyes filled with confusion and fear. The sudden movement triggered a violent coughing fit. Deacon quickly shifted, pulling her upright andholding her close as tremors wracked her body. Her breath was ragged, each cough echoing painfully in the small space.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’m here. You’re safe. Were you dreaming?”

She nodded weakly, the tremble in her body slowing but not stopping. “Dreaming,” she whispered. “Yeah … It was a dream. A nightmare.” Her voice cracked as she continued, her words tumbling out in uneven breaths. “Everything that happened this morning … it replayed in my head. I could feel it all over again. The water. The suffocation. My lungs filling up.” She clutched her throat, her hand trembling as she pulled in a shallow breath. “It all came back.”

She leaned heavily against his shoulder, her forehead pressing into his chest as if trying to hide from the memories. The firelight played across her pale face, the shadows dancing with the storm raging outside.

“God, I hope that dream doesn’t come back,” she whispered.

Deacon arranged the pillow behind her, gently helping her back down onto the mat. Stretching out next to her, he pulled her close, sharing the pillow and draping his arm protectively over her waist. The warmth of her body against his reminded him of how fragile life could be.

“Someone once told me dreams are our subconscious trying to make sense of what we’ve been through,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the rain.

She let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. “Then I have a lot to make sense of,” she replied, her tone laced with weary humor. “Like I didn’t have enough baggage before I took a dive in the floodwaters.”

Deacon didn’t laugh. Echo was probably one of the most composed women he’d ever met, even after everything she’d been through. But he knew the weight of her words, thevulnerability beneath her humor. He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, the motion gentle and grounding.

“Everyone has baggage,” he murmured. “What happened today was something exceptional. It’ll take time to process. Don’t worry—I’m not going anywhere.”

Her arm slid over his, holding him close. “I like that,” she said softly. “But, Deacon, I don’t want you to stay with me out of some sense of duty. I know I was your mission—that you needed to get me in and out. I’d understand if you needed a break. Right now, I’m probably more than you bargained for.”

He tightened his arm around her, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Woman, you are not getting out of this relationship by using the fact that you almost died. I don’t run from trouble.”

She shifted slightly, glancing over her shoulder at him. “So, you admit I’m trouble?”

“Oh, yes, you’re trouble,” he said with a grin. “But trouble in the best possible way. You’re going to wreck all my plans for the future. You’ll haunt my thoughts when we’re not occupying the same bed. You’ll be in my thoughts every time I’m running a mission. Yeah, you’re trouble, all right. But it’s the kind of trouble I signed up for the moment I gave you my cell phone number.”

Echo turned to face him, adjusting her position until she was comfortable. He let his arm fall back over her waist, his hand resting lightly against her back. She stared up at him, her fingers brushing his cheek, her touch featherlight.

“Mentally and emotionally, I’m all over the place right now,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But I want you to know … if it weren’t for you, I don’t think I would’ve come back.”

Deacon stared into her eyes, her words sinking deep into his chest. Maybe her admission should’ve been a warning, a reason to pause. But instead, it filled him with a quiet warmth, a senseof purpose he hadn’t expected. The storm outside raged on, the rain a deafening roar as it battered the jungle, but there in the shelter, everything felt still.

As she closed her eyes and nestled closer, Deacon rubbed slow, soothing circles on the small of her back. His thoughts drifted to the jungle beyond the shelter walls. The Laos terrain was unforgiving. It was a dense, tangled expanse of vines and towering trees, now slick with rain and treacherous to navigate. The swollen flood waters roared like beasts, and the thick mud swallowed every footprint, erasing all traces of their passage.

Somehow, amid the chaos, he couldn’t shake the feeling that today had been part of their destiny. The jungle might have been merciless, the mission brutal, but this connection—this woman—felt like the one thing that made sense.

CHAPTER 12

Echo found a rhythm in the long days and nights spent in the remote village. The team worked tirelessly, their efforts a testament to their resourcefulness and unity. They hunted game, gathered wild fruits, and repaired the bamboo walkways connecting the shelters. There wasn’t a day they weren’t shoring up paths to navigate the swampy, rain-soaked terrain. The jungle around them was ever present, encroaching closer even during monsoon rains. Dense foliage reached toward the sky, and vines twisted like ropes, growing several feet in one day.

Deacon and the team maintained a careful balance, splitting their time between largely remaining out of sight in the village and aiding its residents. In return, the villagers offered what they could: space, firewood, and their hospitality. Ralph visited her daily, and they talked about life and death, exchanging insights from his religious viewpoint. Having someone to confide in was helpful, and his guidance was appreciated. Evenings included shared meals in the larger shelter, with the team's camaraderie filling the space with warmth and laughter despite the storms raging outside. Echo cherished thosemoments; the easy banter and strong bonds among the men reminded her of a family created through trust and hardship.

Yet, the moments alone with Deacon were the ones she craved the most. Those stolen evening hours served as a lifeline, grounding her in the journey of recovery and survival. There was no internet, no television, and no distractions. Every night they talked and learned about each other. Their likes and dislikes were closely matched, except Deacon was a college football fan and she preferred the professional leagues. She smiled to herself and felt the warmth of those whispered words and warm laughs.

Nearly two weeks had passed since she’d drowned, and her body was slowly healing. The bruises on her chest had faded, and the soreness in her ribs was manageable as long as she didn’t overexert herself. The persistent cough that lingered after physical activity was the last remnant of her ordeal, and even Bandit had ceased checking on her daily. By all accounts, she was on the mend.

But the night terrors refused to loosen their grip. Each time she awoke gasping for air, Deacon was there, steady and comforting, pulling her from the depth of her nightmares. Yet, even with his unwavering presence, she couldn’t ignore the distance that had grown between them. His kisses were brief, his touches fleeting, and he never brought up intimacy. The unspoken gap between them gnawed at her. She couldn’t shake the fear that he was only staying out of obligation, counting the days until he could return her to civilization and move on.

Now, she watched him crouch by the fire, adding kindling to coax the flames to life. The flickering golden light danced across his sharp features. Beyond the shelter, the jungle buzzed with life. The air inside the shelter felt warm, and the fire cast long shadows across the bamboo walls.

Echo stood, brushing her hands on her worn utility pants as she approached him. Tonight, she resolved, would be the nightshe finally bridged the gap between them. She placed her hands gently on his shoulders, her touch soft yet purposeful. Deacon paused, turning his head to look up at her with a curious expression.

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