Page 59 of Hunter's Mission

If it came down to it, I would sacrifice one life to save another. What did that say about me?

As the man slowly reached for the rifle slung over his shoulder, I knew that our fate was no longer in my hands alone.

“Damn it,” I muttered, taking aim through the scope of my rifle.

The man’s mouth opened with a shout as he raised his rifle to take a shot at the boat.

I pulled the trigger. The deafening crack of gunfire echoed through the air. The man crumpled to the ground, lifeless. I gritted my teeth.

Men in tattered military clothing poured out of the church with their faces twisted in rage.

“Go, Layla,” I shouted. “Get a fucking move on!”

The assholes scrambled across the dirt, yelling and reaching for their weapons.

I pulled the trigger, hitting a man square in his chest, and he flew backward.

I fired again, killing another man.

Several men ran back inside including that fucker, Neville.

The sounds of chaos filled the jungle air—shouts, gunfire, and the sickening thuds of bullets slamming into the boat.

CHAPTER 13

LAYLA

Screamingas bullets splintered the boat all around me, I gripped the side of the old fishing vessel and ducked my head lower. The murky waters splashed everywhere as I kicked harder, desperate to get away from the gunfire.

My muscles burned, but I couldn’t stop. Hunter needed me.

“Over there!” a shout echoed across the water.

Were they referring to me? Or Hunter?

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I just ducked lower and kept kicking.

Rapid gunfire was like a swarm of angry hornets buzzing around my ears, relentless and unforgiving. Every kick was a battle between desperation and fear.

Hunter’s face appeared in my mind. Would I see him again?

I fought against the current, praying that it didn’t drag me toward the men hunting me.

Bullets slammed into the boat and motor; chunks of wood flew everywhere. The sound of gunfire boomed in my ears.

Hunter’s army rifle fired in quick succession, adding to the chaos, but unlike the erratic shooting by Neville’s men, each shot Hunter made seemed to echo with purpose and precision.

Men screamed in sheer agony, but despite that they were still shooting at me, guilt twisted my insides. These men were dying because of me, because of my research, because of Neville and what he did.

It was wrong. So, so wrong.

More shots rang out, their staccato rhythm punctuating my thundering thoughts.

Kicking furiously, I propelled myself toward where Hunter was waiting. Bullets punched into the boat and the river around me. The churning water seemed cold and unforgiving as if daring me to give up. But I couldn't, not when Hunter risked everything to keep me alive.

A bullet whizzed past my ear, and I ducked lower. My heart pounded like a wild animal trying to escape my chest.

I forced my exhausted body to keep moving. The sounds of gunfire grew more distant, and the screams of the attackers began to fade. With each passing second, hope bloomed within me like a fragile flower, daring me to believe that we might escape this nightmare.

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