Page 21 of Legacy's Destiny

The team moved with practiced precision, their movements as quiet as the jungle around them. Feet hit the sand, muffled by the soft, shifting grains as they hauled the boats ashore. “As far as we can carry them,” Deacon whispered, his voice cutting through the thick, humid air. He didn’t need to remind them why—his team had seen this river swallow miles of land during monsoon season.

Although the darkness provided merciful relief from the sun, it was an obstacle in its own right. The oppressive canopy overhead blocked out even the faintest starlight, leaving the world around them a shadowy maze. They moved in single file, their machetes hacking at the dense foliage, the sharp metallic ring of steel striking vines occasionally piercing the jungle sounds.

Progress was agonizingly slow. The jungle pushed back at every step, its tangled undergrowth clutching their boots and slowing their advance. Sweat trickled down Deacon’s back, soaking into his gear. The boats were heavy, but they were a lifeline—a vital exit strategy in case the mission went sideways. Better to suffer now than regret it later.

When they reached towering trees that had weathered countless storms, they anchored the boats securely, tying themto thick trunks that could withstand even the heaviest floods. With equipment strapped to their backs, they camouflaged the watercraft with foliage and netting before pressing on, their steps muffled by the thick jungle floor.

As they trudged toward the camp, Deacon found himself behind Echo. Her movements were purposeful, each step fueled by determination. Exhaustion pressed down on everyone, but she didn’t falter. Her grit was impressive, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

When they stopped for a brief rest, Deacon sank beside her. He passed her his canteen, the cool metal slick with condensation. “How are you doing?”

She accepted it without hesitation, taking a long pull of the water before handing it back. “I’m exhausted,” she admitted, her voice raw with fatigue. “But then again, everyone looks tired.”

Deacon tipped the canteen to his lips and drained it, the tepid water doing little to refresh him. “Hell, yes, we’re tired,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “This heat would take it out of anyone.”

“How much farther?” she asked, brushing damp strands of hair from her face.

“Five clicks, that way.” He pointed north and east, his hand cutting through the humid air like a blade. “Once we get there, we’ll observe before making a move. Going in blind is suicide.”

She nodded, her focus sharpening. “Makes sense. Whoever’s working on this will need electricity—and a computer. Or, at least, they’ll think they do. The device is standalone, but it’s designed to look like part of a system. Fake wires and all.”

Deacon frowned, wiping sweat from his brow. “You're masking your device? From whom? Your own people?”

Echo leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m not sure if you know this, but nobody trusts anyone at the CIA.”

The low chuckles from his team broke through the humidity. Deacon rolled his eyes, smirking.

“She fits right in, Cap.” Ranger grinned as he took another drink from his canteen.

Echo shook her head slowly. “Not really. The humidity is turning my hair into a frizz show, and I can smell myself from where you’re sitting.”

Deacon chuckled, a rare moment of levity cutting through the strain. She pulled out her own canteen, taking a sip before handing it to him. “When this is all over, I’m finding an office with air conditioning and carpet so plush it feels like heaven under my feet. Barefoot luxury—that’s my dream.” She lifted her boots and wiggled her feet around while pointing to them. “Not barefoot. Not happy.”

Ace snorted, taking a swig of water. “Mighty opinionated on what you want, aren’t you?”

She tilted her head, pretending to ponder his question. “Extremely, but I’m unsure where ‘mighty’ and ‘extremely’ fall on the opinionated continuum. Is mighty more or less than extremely?”

Rip laughed. “She’s a keeper, Cap. How come we haven’t met her before?”

Echo raised an eyebrow at Deacon, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Yeah, how come they haven’t met me before?”

Deacon shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. “My personal life stays personal.”

“Which means he doesn’t trust us around someone special,” Bandit said, earning a round of low laughter.

Echo turned to Deacon, her eyes filled with mischief. “Am I special?”

He stood, stretching his shoulders. “Oh, you’re about as special as they come.”

She got to her feet, raising her canteen in a mock toast. “Good to know, Sparky.”

Ranger choked on his water, coughing as Rip slapped him on the back. “Sparky?”

Echo batted her eyelashes. “Oops. Did I let the pet name out of the bag?”

Deacon tapped his ear twice and then hers. “For the second time, remember the aircraft? Payback’s going to be my pleasure.”

She grinned, activating her comms as she passed him. Her quiet laugh drifted back to him like a tease on the humid breeze.

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