Chapter 132: The Thrilling Chase

Chapter 132: The Thrilling Chase



The man froze, his body tense as he glanced around, clearly trying to assess his options. The rest of Marcus's team had already taken positions, weapons aimed, ready to engage at any sign of resistance.

"Hands up!" one of the soldiers shouted, his rifle trained on the target. "Do it now!"

For a moment, the man hesitated, his gaze darting toward the thicker part of the forest, as if weighing the risk of making a run for it. Marcus could see the panic in his eyes, the desperation of a man who knew he was cornered.

"Don't even think about it," Marcus growled, stepping forward slowly. "You take one step, and it's over. Hands up. Slowly."

The man's chest heaved as he raised his hands, palms open in surrender, but his eyes still flicked nervously around. Marcus knew this type-the kind who was waiting for an opening, hoping for a mistake.

"Get down on your knees!" another soldier ordered, stepping closer with his weapon aimed directly at the man's chest.

As the man dropped to his knees, his eyes darted one last time toward the dense underbrush. Marcus caught the movement, his gut twisting with the realization that the man wasn't going to comply.

Without warning, the man leaped to his feet and made a desperate dash toward the forest.

"Stop!" Marcus bellowed, but the man ignored him, his feet kicking up dirt as he sprinted away.

Marcus didn't hesitate. His rifle snapped up, the crosshairs locking on the fleeing target's leg. One sharp breath, and he squeezed the trigger.

The crack of the gunshot echoed through the forest, and the man let out a scream as he tumbled to the ground, clutching his leg. The shot had been clean, hitting just above the knee, rendering him immobile.

"Arghhhhh! You fuckers!" The man screamed, his hands instinctively clutching at his leg as blood seeped through his fingers. He writhed in pain on the ground, cursing under his breath as Marcus and his team approached.

"You had your chance," Marcus said coldly, stepping closer with his rifle still aimed at the man. "Now, you're going to answer a few questions. Or we leave you here for the animals."

The man gritted his teeth, glaring up at Marcus. "Screw you... I'm not telling you anything." "Okay...since you made your decision,"

"Hands up!" a soldier barked, his voice cutting through the stillness. "You know the drill." This group, too, looked panicked and exhausted, their faces streaked with dirt and sweat. One man, slightly older than the others, stepped forward, his hands shaking as he raised them. "We don't want any trouble," he said, his voice quivering. "We're just following orders." "Get on your knees!" another soldier ordered, his weapon trained on the group. The men complied, dropping to the forest floor with their hands raised.

Marcus moved in, his eyes scanning each of them. "You know how this goes," he said coldly. "Where's Garrick? Where are the rest of your men?"

The older man gulped, clearly terrified. "I swear, we don't know," he said quickly. "Garrick told us to fall back south, regroup near the ridge. That's all we know."

Marcus's jaw clenched. "South again?"

"We are moving South."

*Bang...bang...bang.

Marcus fired three quick shots, each bullet hitting its mark. The bodies of the men slumped to

the ground before they even had time to process what had happened.

"South," Marcus muttered under his breath. "Same damn story every time."

He holstered his weapon and signaled for his team to move out. "We can't waste any more

time on this. If Garrick's men keep feeding us the same bullshit, we'll never catch up to him.

We know where they're really heading-north."

"Sir...the Apache just located Garrick," reported another soldier.

"Where?"

"About 800 meters North of us."