The forest was restless.
Branches swayed though there was no wind. The faint hum of distant engines echoed somewhere beyond the trees—Riley's men sweeping the area.
Ethan moved swiftly through the undergrowth, his expression composed, his pace controlled.
But his eyes—
Sharp.
Calculating.
A beam of light cut through the darkness ahead.
"Over here Sir!"
Ethan approached.
Three of Riley's men stood in a small clearing, their tactical lights focused on a single figure slumped against a tree.
Taylor.
Unconscious.
Blood streaked down the side of his face, his breathing shallow but steady.
One of the men turned as Ethan arrived.
"Sir," he said. "We found him about 200 meters from a wrecked vehicle. Looks like he was thrown out on impact—or flew out himself."
Ethan crouched beside Taylor, checking his pulse.
Stable.
Barely.
"Did he say anything?" Ethan asked.
The men exchanged glances.
