As the rounds tore into the tree trunks and sent bark exploding outward in wet sprays, Sa and the woman were forced into a decision neither of them wanted to make.
The dense foliage offered only partial cover, and every fresh burst from Don's rifle chewed closer to their positions.
Rain hammered the canopy above, turning the already treacherous ground into a sucking mire of mud and torn roots.
The woman clearly did not want to leave without the statue. Her expression, even through the pain of the high-caliber round that had punched through her leg, carried that same cold determination that had driven her this far.
Yet the math was simple and brutal. They could not afford a prolonged confrontation.
Distant gunfire rolled through the jungle like approaching thunder, and the metallic objects continued to fall at irregular intervals, each detonation a reminder that the guards were still very much active and closing in.
