The cave was cold, damp, and dimly lit by the flickering of a few battery-operated lanterns. The team huddled together, their breaths heavy with exhaustion and pain. The adrenaline from the battle had worn off, leaving them to grapple with the brutal reality of their situation. Ethan sat on the edge of a rock, his glasses slightly askew, as he studied each of his teammates. Every person had taken a hit—either physically or emotionally—but they were still breathing. They were still a team. And they still had a mission.

Rico, the only military physician among them, was bent over Jag, trying to assess the damage. His own side was bandaged, but the dark red stains had already seeped through. Miriam, her hands trembling, was helping Rico as best she could. Despite the chaos, the group had functioned like a well-oiled machine during the attack. But the toll was evident.

Jag was a fighter. He always had been. But now, as he sat slumped against the cave wall, his left arm immobilized and throbbing with pain, he couldn't help but feel the sharp sting of helplessness.

Rico took a deep breath, his face pale from blood loss but determined to push through. "Jag's lucky," he muttered, his voice strained but steady. "The bullet didn't hit his heart. It clipped the left clavicular head. He's gonna be in pain, and he won't be lifting that arm anytime soon, but he'll survive."

Rico had done his best to stabilize him, but the injury was severe. It would take weeks, maybe months, to heal properly—if it healed at all.

Jag winced as Rico tightened a makeshift sling around his shoulder, but managed a smirk. "I've had worse, Doc. Just tell me when I can get back in the fight."

"I think you're going to have to sit this one out, Jag," Rico said, more stern than usual. "You need to rest if you don't want to risk internal bleeding." He then glanced at Marcus, whose leg was elevated with a torn piece of cloth wrapped tightly around his thigh. Marcus was still limping badly, but the bleeding had stopped. His leg would heal, but it wasn't certain how quickly.

Ethan leaned over Rico, the concern visible on his face. "What about yourself, brother? You've lost a lot of blood."

"I'll manage," Rico replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "I've had worse nights. But we need to stabilize John."

All eyes turned toward John, who lay motionless against the rough stone wall of the cave. His breathing was labored, shallow. He had taken the brunt of the ambush, taking a hit just before Boyet was killed. Despite Rico's best efforts, John's wounds were too severe.

Rae knelt beside John, her hand resting on his chest. Her face was tight with grief. "Come on, John," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You're tougher than this. You can pull through."

Ethan knelt down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. He had seen this before—too many times to count. The gut-wrenching pain of losing someone under your command, someone who felt like family. Rae's breath hitched, but she kept it together. She had to, for John.

But John's eyes flickered, his face pale as he struggled to focus on Rae's face. His hand weakly reached up to touch hers. "Cap... Captain," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I can't..."

"No," Rae said, shaking her head, her dark eyes filling with unshed tears. "You're gonna make it. Just hang in there."

John managed a small, pained smile. "It's... okay... I'm... okay..." His voice faded, his hand slipping from hers.

Rae closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his still chest. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Silence filled the cave, save for the ragged breaths of the wounded and the faint, haunting wind that whistled through the cave's entrance.

Ethan stood, his jaw clenched, feeling the weight of the loss sink into his bones. They had lost Boyet. And now John. They seemed to be good men under her watch, whose lives had been taken by the rebels. He looked over at Rae, who was still crouched beside John's lifeless body, her eyes closed as if silently willing him to come back.

"I'm sorry," Ethan said quietly, but Rae didn't respond. She stood up, her face a mask of controlled anguish, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She had lost too much already. Now, all she had was the mission.

"We'll bury him in the morning," Vic said quietly, breaking the silence. He was leaning against the cave wall, his own exhaustion evident in the deep lines etched across his face. "But right now, we need to figure out our next move."

Rae stood up, her face grim but determined. "We keep going," she said, her voice rough but determined. "We finish this."

Ethan nodded, his respect for her growing. Despite the pain, despite the loss, she was still standing, still fighting. And that was what they had to do now, they're in too deep—so keep fighting, no matter what.

* * *

Later, as the team settled into the cave for what little rest they could get, Ethan found himself once again drawn to Rae. She sat alone near the cave entrance, staring out into the night, her face pale and lined with exhaustion. She looked fragile in that moment, like she might shatter if touched too harshly.

Ethan approached her quietly, sitting down beside her without a word. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. They just sat in the stillness, listening to the distant sounds of the jungle.

"I've never seen anything like that before," Rae said suddenly, her voice soft but steady.

Ethan glanced at her, surprised. "Like what?"

"Someone so berserk," Rae said, turning to look at him. "You always seem so calm... in control. But last night, when you were fighting... it was different. It was like you were someone else."

Ethan's jaw tightened. He knew what she was talking about—she had seen the side of him that he tried to keep buried. The side that had earned him the nickname "The Butcher."

"I was doing what needed to be done," Ethan said quietly. "That's all."

Rae shook her head, her eyes searching his face. "No, it was more than that. You were... ruthless. It's like you're killing flies and not humans."

"That's what it takes sometimes," Ethan said, his voice hardening. "You can't let anything distract you. Not pain, not fear, not even the people you care about."

Rae looked away, her brow furrowed. "Is that really what you believe?"

Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know anymore. But I do know that if I don't do it, Eric will die. My friends will die. We'll all die. And I don't want you to die... captain."

Rae was silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the dark jungle beyond the cave. "Do you ever wonder if we're going to make it out of this alive?"

"Every minute since I met you," Ethan admitted. "But wondering doesn't change anything. We just have to keep moving forward."

Rae nodded, but there was something in her eyes that made Ethan's chest tighten. It wasn't just fear or uncertainty—it was something deeper, something that scared him more than anything else. This is becoming more than Eric. He could feel the stakes slowly getting higher.

"You don't have to do this alone, Ethan," Rae said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to carry all of this burden by yourself. Your friends are here... I'm here..." her voice trailed off as she looked away.

Ethan looked at her, his throat tightening. He wanted to reach out, to tell her that he understood, that he felt the same way. But he couldn't. Not now. Not when everything was so uncertain.

"I know," he said finally, his voice rough. "But we can't do anything about it right now."