The sun dipped low, bleeding orange and gold across the sky as dusk began to settle over the island. With it ca a crisp bite in the evening air. Anne folded her arms around herself, a slight shiver running through her.
Augustine pulled her close, wrapping the thin blanket tighter around them.
"I’m starving," Anne said, completely unaware of the silent threat crawling around them.
"Then let’s go," Augustine said, rising and pulling her to her feet. "The cottage is waiting."
They started to gather their things when Augustine froze.
A soft snap like a twig breaking underfoot echoed faintly through the trees, followed by a rustle in the underbrush. His hand instinctively tightened around Anne’s, his entire body going still, senses sharpening like a blade.
"What is it?" Anne asked, picking up on the sudden tension in his posture. She looked around, her eyes scanning the shadows. All she could see was the thick greenery darkening by the second.
Augustine didn’t answer right away. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He had this ominous sensation of being watched. But he saw nothing suspicious.
’Maybe it’s just my imagination,’ he told himself.
But he remained vigilant.
"Could be wild animals," he said carefully. "Let’s move."
He kept her close as they stepped off the lounge bed and started back toward the path leading to the cottage. But they had barely made it a few paces when the sound of rustling leaves ca again, this ti sharper, closer.
He knew it wasn’t a wandering animal. Soone was there, following them.
Crack
Before he could react, the first gunshot rang out. It echoed like thunder, and a sharp spray of wood burst from the lounge pillar near their heads.
Augustine shoved Anne down instantly, covering her with his body. "Get down."
"What is happening?" she exclaid, confused and alard.
"We are not alone," he said tightly. "We are being hunted."
"What?" she tried to look around, but the jungle offered no answers, just towering trees cloaked in shadows, their silhouettes stretching like ghostly figures under the falling night.
"Run," he said with a warning tone.
Without waiting for her reply, he yanked her hand and sprinted, pulling her behind the stone bar a few ters away. Bullets sliced through the air behind them, punching into trees and wood as the attackers closed in from the dense jungle beyond the cabana.
Anne stumbled behind him, adrenaline surging. Her heart pounded like a drum, breath was ragged. "Who are they?" she asked in a hushed tone, crouching low behind the stone.
Augustine didn’t reply. He remained hidden behind the stone and kept pressing her head down. His eyes stayed locked on the jungle beyond the cabana, scanning every flicker, every movent.
Flashlights flickered through the trees like fireflies, and footsteps echoed.
"Augustine," she whispered.
"Stay low," he whispered back. "Do not move unless I tell you to."
Augustine’s eyes moved to the wooden coffee table on the far side of the cabana. Earlier, when he had reached for the fruit bowl and champagne, he had noticed a revolver tucked out of sight beneath the table. He knew Lucien had arranged it to protect themselves if any wild animals appeared. He needed to get there and get that gun.
He turned to Anne. "I’ll co back for you. I swear it."
"No," she whispered, clinging to his arm with both hands, her fingers ice-cold and trembling. "Don’t leave ."
"Trust ," he said, cupping her face gently. "Stay low. Don’t move. I’ll be right back."
He kissed her hard, then broke away, rolling off her and keeping low as he slipped into the shadows.
Anne didn’t breathe. Her body was frozen, tucked behind the stone bar, eyes fixed on the darkness where he had disappeared.
Then the gunfire rang again.
Anne slapped both hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. Her eyes stung as tears surfaced. Each second felt like it stretched into forever.
’Why hasn’t he co back? Where is he?’
Carefully, she edged up just enough to peek over the stone, pressing her cheek against its cool surface.
She saw three n in black, creeping out from the jungle line, faces hidden, rifles raised.
Anne’s stomach dropped.
’Who are they? Why are they after us?’ Her thoughts spiraled, spinning into panic. Her eyes darted through the shadows, heart pounding as she searched for Augustine.
On the far side of the cabana, Augustine moved through the darkness like a predator, silent and swift. His eyes were cold, his grip steady around the pistol. He aid at a figure and squeezed the trigger.
Crack.
A bullet tore through the shoulder of the first attacker.
"Ahh..." The man scread, dropping to the ground, clutching his wound as he writhed in agony.
The other two spun around, startled, then unleashed a barrage of gunfire in all directions, desperately.
Behind the stone bar, Anne clamped her hands over her ears. Her whole body curled inward, knees drawn to her chest. She couldn’t even cry; her fear had stolen her breath.
But Augustine stayed hidden in the shadows, waiting, tracking his targets. He aid his gun and shot down another goon, a clean shot to the chest. The man dropped imdiately, dead before he hit the ground.
The third attacker was the only one left. He turned in circles, panic flooding his every move. "Co out, you bastard," he shouted. "I’ll kill you tonight."
Click.
His rifle ran dry.
"Shit." He scrambled to reload, hands fumbling, sweat dripping down his neck. He failed to see Augustine approaching from behind.
A twig snapped underfoot, loud enough in the stillness. The man’s head jerked up, weapon raised.
Augustine dropped low, dodging the barrel. He surged forward, slamming his elbow into the man’s throat with brutal force. The attacker staggered, choking, and dropped to one knee. In a blur, Augustine ripped the rifle from his hands and turned it on him.
But he didn’t fire.
The man stared up, eyes wide with terror, breathing fast.
Augustine cocked his head, calm and rciless. "Not worth a bullet."
With one hand, he reached behind his back and pulled the small fruit knife he had pocketed earlier. In a flash, he drove it into the man’s neck—once, twice, a third ti.
Blood gurgled up. The man gasped, hands flailing, eyes wild. A mont later, he collapsed, twitching once before going still.
The first one, who had been crawling on the ground, lifted his shaking arm and aid his pistol at Augustine. Fear and pain had turned his grip unsteady, but he still had enough strength to pull the trigger.
Before he could fire, Augustine looked at him. His breath caught and, in that instant, his finger stalled on the trigger.
But Augustine didn’t miss a beat. He shot the bullet right at his forehead, killing him on the spot.
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