Chapter 16: Riverbank Escape

The muddy riverbank shone under the moon's glow, streaked with dark and light. Rain pounded, making the air heavy with its drumming. The earthy smell of wet dirt mixed with the sharp tang of stormy air as the ground turned into thick, sticky mud. Ethan Drake pushed himself onto his knees, panting hard, his face streaked with mud and blood. His sharp gray eyes darted to the dark trees, searching for any movement. The faint whir of a helicopter cut through the rain's noise, growing louder. He clenched his jaw, his voice low and firm.

"Clara, get up. Now."

Clara DeVries coughed violently, water spilling from her lips as she gasped for air. She was shaking, soaked to the bone, her hands slipping in the mud as she tried to steady herself. She shot Ethan a glare, frustration breaking through her exhaustion.

"You try swimming with a helicopter on your tail," she rasped, her voice rough.

The searchlight swept across the river, slicing the darkness apart. Ethan tightened his grip on Clara's arm and hauled her up.

"Complain later. Move now," he ordered, his tone sharp.

Rain poured off his jacket as he pulled her toward a cluster of tall reeds. They crouched low, the wet stalks sticking to their clothes. The helicopter's beam passed just inches away, lighting the water with an icy glare. Clara's breath caught, her fingers digging into Ethan's arm.

"Why don't they just land?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

Ethan's face hardened. "Malikov wants more than to kill us. He wants to make it a spectacle."

The helicopter veered upriver, its spotlight fading into the storm. Ethan didn't wait. He tugged Clara's arm.

"Now's our shot. Let's go."

Each step was a struggle through the sucking mud and relentless rain. Clara stumbled, her breath ragged, hair plastered to her face.

"Where are we even going?" she panted.

"Maintenance tunnel," Ethan said, his eyes fixed ahead. "It'll take us closer to Victor's mansion."

Clara's eyes widened. "And if they find us?"

"Then we deal with it," Ethan said sharply.

A gunshot cracked through the storm, shattering the night. A tree exploded in splinters near Clara's head. She screamed, dropping to the ground. Another shot whizzed past. Ethan spun, reaching for his holster—empty. His gun was gone, lost in the river.

"Run!" he shouted.

Another bullet grazed his leg. He stumbled, pain shooting through him, but kept moving, pressing his hand to the wound. Clara hesitated, her wide eyes darting between Ethan and the forest ahead.

"Clara, go!" he roared, his voice cutting through the rain. "Now!"

Clara bolted, slipping on the wet ground. Ethan limped after her, his breathing sharp. Behind them, voices shouted, boots crashing through the brush.

The forest closed in, a tangle of shadows and branches. Lightning lit up the trees in quick flashes, showing Clara's pale, frightened face as she tripped over a root. She caught herself on a rock, gasping for air. Ethan caught up, scanning the ground.

"There's nothing here!" Clara cried, her voice cracking. "You said there was a tunnel—"

"Give me a second," Ethan snapped, clawing at the dirt. His fingers hit metal, and relief flooded him. He uncovered a rusty hatch almost hidden by the mud. Without a word, he pulled it open, the hinges creaking.

"In. Now!"

Clara scrambled into the darkness. Ethan followed, slamming the hatch shut as bullets struck the ground above.

The tunnel was pitch black, the air damp and stale. Clara leaned against the slimy wall, shaking uncontrollably. Ethan pulled out a small flashlight, its weak beam cutting through the darkness.

"This better lead somewhere," Clara muttered, her voice unsteady.

"It does," Ethan said, his tone flat. "But we can't stop. They'll figure out where we went."

Above them, footsteps crunched through the forest. Clara froze, her wide eyes meeting Ethan's.

"They're right on top of us," she whispered.

"They won't find the hatch unless they're looking," Ethan said, his voice calm but firm.

He knelt, pulling a small first-aid kit from his jacket. Quickly, he wrapped a bandage around his bleeding leg. Clara watched him, her eyes narrowing.

"Why do you do this?" she asked, her voice quiet but insistent. "Why risk your life?"

Ethan didn't look up. "Because someone has to."

"That's not an answer," Clara said, frustration bubbling in her voice. "Why you?"

Ethan met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "Because people like Malikov think they can do whatever they want. And the people who suffer? They don't get a choice. I can't fix everything, but I can make sure Malikov knows someone's watching."

Clara fell silent. Ethan finished tying the bandage and stood, wincing.

"Stay close," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The tunnel's long, and I'm not coming back for you."

He turned, the flashlight leading the way. Clara hesitated, then followed. Her footsteps echoed faintly behind him.

Above, Viktor Malikov stood at the riverbank, rain dripping off his tactical gear. His icy blue eyes scanned the dark landscape. Beside him, Lena Navarro adjusted her sniper rifle, her sharp gaze sweeping the trees. Mateo Cruz paced restlessly nearby, his energy barely contained. Darius Quinn tapped away on a tablet, his augmented-reality glasses glowing faintly.

"They went into the trees," Lena said calmly.

Mateo grinned. "One grenade, and—"

"No." Malikov's voice was cold. "We don't need noise. We'll outsmart them."

Darius didn't look up. "If they're heading for the mansion, the cameras will catch them in five minutes."

Malikov's smirk was sharp. "Let them run. When I catch them, they'll learn this game only ends one way."

Thunder rolled across the forest, the storm's fury matching Malikov's ruthless determination. For Ethan and Clara, the night was far from over.