Ethan's eyes snapped open, the memories of their past flooding through him like a tidal wave. The faces of his team were etched in grief, but none more than his own. Rico wasn't just a soldier, wasn't just a teammate—he was family. They had fought together, bled together, and survived together.

And now, he was gone.

The finality of it crashed over Ethan, leaving him breathless. He could still hear Rico's voice, that confident, cocky tone that had always grounded him. He could still see that grin, the one that always appeared right before things got dangerous. Rico had been right there with him for every battle, every decision, every mistake. And now, Ethan had to face the rest of his life without him.

Rae's hand found his, her grip firm but comforting. He didn't need to look at her to know what she was offering—silent support, unwavering loyalty. But nothing could fill the void Rico's absence had left in his heart.

Ethan stared out at the endless expanse of ocean, his mind returning to those last moments. Rico charging the rebels, grenades in hand. Rico sacrificing himself so they could live.

Ethan sat in the back of the boat, cradling Eric's fragile body against his chest, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon as the sun began to rise. The boat cut through the water, leaving behind the island where they had lost Rico, and where the rebels still breathed. His heart thundered with a mix of pain and fury, his mind unable to shake the image of Rico's final moments—the look in his eyes before he dashed toward the rebels.

Rico's sacrifice had saved them all. It had saved Eric. But the cost was too high. Ethan's grip on Eric tightened as his rage burned hotter, like a fuse slowly winding toward an inevitable explosion.

Rae remained beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder, offering comfort. She had seen the raw anguish in his face but knew better than to speak of it now. Instead, she tried to focus on the immediate priority—and the original mission.

"At least now we have Eric," Rae said softly, her voice barely audible over the roar of the boat's engine. "Only a few minutes, and we can get him into a hospital."

Ethan didn't answer. His eyes were locked forward, blazing with a fire that refused to be extinguished. His jaw clenched, his muscles tensed. Yes, they would get Eric to a hospital, and they would make sure he survived. But after that... after that, there would be nothing left but vengeance.

Rae glanced at him, her brow furrowing in concern. She could feel the energy radiating off him—dangerous, consuming. "Ethan..." she began, but the words died on her lips as she saw the look in his eyes.

There was no mistaking it—Ethan wasn't just angry. He was a storm waiting to break. His silence spoke louder than any words could. The rebels had taken too much from him. Rico was gone, and a part of Ethan had died with him. But there was still something left, something that burned brighter with each passing second.

Ethan's mind replayed the battles they had fought, the blood spilled, the brothers lost. Rico had been more than a friend—he had been family, and they had sworn to watch each other's backs until the end. Now, that promise lay shattered in the dirt, and Ethan had only one thought left.

They will pay.

Every rebel who had stood in their way, every one of them who had fired a shot, who had hunted them through the jungle, would suffer. He would return to that island. He would hunt them down, one by one. And he would leave none of them alive.

Rae's hand tightened on his shoulder, sensing the darkness growing inside him. "We'll get through this," she said, her voice steady but worried. "We'll do what we need to do."

Ethan's eyes didn't shift, but his voice was low, controlled, seething. "Not we, Rae. Me."

She knew better than to argue with him at this moment. Ethan was far beyond reason. He was in the place where soldiers go when all they have left is rage and a need to make things right in the only way they know how.

As the boat sped toward the distant lights of the mainland, the faint sound of sirens already on the wind, Ethan's mind was no longer there. It was back on that island, in the jungle, with the rebels. And they would know soon enough that Ethan wasn't done with them.

Not by a long shot.

* * *

As the boat neared the harbor, the dim lights of the town hospital grew clearer, their pale glow illuminating the weary faces of Ethan and his team. The hum of the engine cut out, and the boat drifted into the dock. Vic was the first to move, jumping out to steady the boat, while Miriam and Marcus carefully lifted Jag, whose face was etched with pain. His injuries had worsened from the fall, and his breath came in short, shallow bursts.

Marcus gritted his teeth as he helped Jag to his feet. "We'll get you patched up, man," he muttered, his voice filled with a quiet resolve. But even as he spoke, his eyes flicked to Ethan, who stood at the back of the boat, his jaw clenched, staring out into the darkness. The fury in Ethan's expression was unmistakable.

With slow, deliberate movements, they lifted Eric from the boat. He remained unconscious, his small body frighteningly still. Rae hovered over him, her fingers brushing against his pale skin as they placed him onto the waiting stretcher.

"You're going to make it, Eric," Rae whispered, though her voice wavered with uncertainty. The words were as much for herself as they were for the boy. She glanced at Ethan, standing rigid by the dock, and felt the tension radiating off him like a storm about to break.

Jag and Eric were rushed into the hospital, and Miriam went with them. The medical staff immediately surrounding them, leaving the rest of the team standing in the cold night air. For a moment, the only sound was the soft lapping of water against the dock. Rae, Marcus, and Vic exchanged worried glances. They knew Ethan too well—his silence wasn't one of grief. It was the cold, focused silence of a man consumed by revenge.

Rae stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. "Ethan, we have Eric now. We did it. He's going to get the help he needs."

Ethan's eyes were still locked on the horizon, his fists clenched at his sides. "This isn't over," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. "Not until they're dead. Every last one of them."

Vic, the newest member of the team, shifted uncomfortably. He had seen this kind of rage before, but not from Ethan. He'd only been with the group a short time, but even he could sense the line that Ethan was about to cross.

"Look, man," Vic began, trying to sound as calm as possible. "We got what we came for. Eric's safe. You don't need to go back."

Ethan's gaze snapped to Vic, eyes blazing. "You think this is over?" he asked, his voice barely restrained. "They killed Rico. They almost killed Eric. You think I'm just going to walk away?"

Marcus stepped up beside Vic, his face tense. Out of everyone there, he knew Ethan the longest, and he felt the weight of Rico's death just as much. But Marcus knew that seeking revenge wasn't the answer—not now.

"Ethan, listen to me," Marcus said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "Rico was my brother, too. You know that. I want to kill those bastards just as much as you do. But this... going back, it's suicide. You know that."

Ethan's jaw tightened, his hands still clenched into fists. He didn't care about the odds. He didn't care if it was suicide. All he could see was the image of Rico's last moments, the sound of his voice echoing in his mind, telling them to escape. He wasn't going to let that sacrifice go unanswered.

"I'm not asking any of you to come with me," Ethan said coldly. "But I'm going back. Tonight."

Rae stepped in front of him, blocking his path as he moved toward the dock. Her voice was filled with urgency now, her eyes pleading. "Ethan, we get it. We do. But this isn't the way. You think Rico would want you to throw your life away just to get revenge?"

Ethan's eyes flashed with fury. "Rico's dead because of them! They deserve to die for what they did."

Marcus shook his head, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Rico wouldn't want this, Ethan. He sacrificed himself so we could live, not so you could go off on a suicide mission."

For a moment, it seemed like Ethan might listen, that the weight of their words might pull him back from the edge. But then his expression hardened again, his determination unshaken.

"I have to do this," Ethan said, his voice low but unyielding. "If I don't, I won't be able to live with myself."

Rae's shoulders slumped, but she stepped back, her eyes filled with sadness. She knew there was no stopping him. Ethan had already made up his mind, and there was no turning back now.

Marcus exchanged a glance with Rae before speaking again, his voice resigned but resolute. "If you're going, I'm going with you. I'm not letting you do this alone."

Rae nodded, her face set in grim determination. "Me too. I'm not letting you run off without backup. We're in this together."

Vic hesitated, still trying to process the depth of their bond. He hadn't known Rico as long as the others, but he wasn't about to let Ethan and Marcus walk into certain death without him. "I'm in," he said, though his voice held a hint of uncertainty. "But we're doing this smart."

Ethan looked at them—his team, his family—and for the briefest moment, his anger wavered. But then the fire in his eyes returned, cold and unrelenting.

"Alright," he said, his voice steely. "But we're not stopping until they're all dead."

As dawn approached, the team stood together, preparing for the inevitable. For them, one thing was clear: they were bound by something deeper than vengeance. They were bound by loyalty, by the memory of their fallen brother, and by the knowledge that, for better or worse, they would face whatever came next together.

But, as far as Ethan knew, when they return to that island, this time it wouldn't be a rescue mission.

It would be an execution.