The weight of the pistol at my side was both reassuring and unsettling. It was the first time I'd held a weapon like this outside of the dark fantasies that had long haunted me. Now, it wasn't just a symbol—it was a tool for survival. And the realization that I might have to use it sent a chill down my spine.
Mara kept the pace relentless, her focus sharp as we moved deeper into the wilderness. She didn't speak much, and I didn't press her. The encounter with the two men still lingered in my mind—their precision, their equipment, the device they had used. These weren't random hunters; they were part of something bigger, something we barely understood.
As we crossed a shallow creek, Mara finally broke the silence. "We need to figure out how they found us," she said, her voice low but firm. "They're not just sweeping at random. There's a pattern."
I thought about the tracker the men had used. "Could they have planted something on us?" I asked, suddenly hyperaware of every item in my bag, every pocket in my clothes.
Mara shook her head. "I checked everything before we left the last location. They're not tracking us directly. It's something else. A signal, maybe. Or..." She trailed off, her brow furrowed.
"Or what?" I pressed.
She stopped and turned to face me, her expression grave. "Or they've got someone feeding them information. Someone who knows our moves before we make them."
The possibility hit me like a punch to the gut. "A mole?" I asked, incredulous. "But who? We've barely interacted with anyone."
Mara's jaw tightened. "That's what worries me. If there's someone on the inside, they're playing a long game. And they're good at it."
Her words hung heavy in the air as we continued onward, the forest around us seeming darker with every step. The idea of someone betraying us—someone who might be watching, waiting—added a new layer of paranoia to an already impossible situation.
After another hour of walking, Mara led us off the main path to a secluded clearing surrounded by dense underbrush. "We'll stop here for a bit," she said, dropping her bag to the ground. "But only for a short rest. We can't afford to stay in one place too long."
I sank onto a fallen log, my legs aching and my mind racing. Mara pulled out the radio she'd taken from the men earlier and switched it on, the soft crackle of static filling the clearing. She adjusted the frequency, listening intently for anything that might give us a clue.
After a few moments, a voice broke through the static, faint but clear enough to make out.
"Unit 3, confirm location sweep. Over."
Mara tensed, motioning for me to stay silent. She adjusted the radio again, her expression hardening as another voice responded.
"Unit 3 down. Likely targets heading northwest. Mobilize secondary team. Over."
The transmission ended abruptly, leaving only static. Mara cursed under her breath and turned off the radio.
"They know where we're headed," she said, her voice tight with frustration. "We need to change direction. Now."
"But how?" I asked, my stomach sinking. "If they're tracking us this closely, won't they anticipate that too?"
Mara stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Maybe. But we can't make it easy for them. We stick to unpredictable routes, avoid any major landmarks, and keep moving. The longer we stay ahead of them, the more mistakes they'll make."
Her determination was unwavering, but I could see the toll it was taking on her. She was carrying the weight of this fight on her shoulders, and every step forward seemed heavier than the last.
As we prepared to leave the clearing, something caught my eye—a faint glint of metal partially buried in the ground. I crouched down, brushing away the dirt to reveal a small, cylindrical device no bigger than a thumb.
"Mara," I called, holding it up. "What is this?"
She knelt beside me, her expression darkening as she examined the device. "A locator beacon," she said, her voice sharp with alarm. "They've been here. Recently."
The implications were immediate and chilling. They weren't just tracking us—they were laying traps, breadcrumbs to steer us into their hands.
Mara crushed the beacon under her boot, her movements swift and angry. "We're leaving. Now."
The urgency in her voice sent a jolt through me, and I scrambled to follow as she led us away from the clearing at a breakneck pace. My mind raced with questions, fears, and doubts, but there was no time to dwell on them. Survival was the only priority.
As we plunged deeper into the forest, the world around us seemed to close in, the trees pressing tighter, the shadows growing longer. Every sound felt amplified—the snap of a twig, the call of a distant bird, the pounding of my own heart.
But through it all, one thought burned brighter than the rest: if they were this close, it was only a matter of time before they caught up.
And when they did, I wasn't sure if we'd be ready.