Jackson

The world outside the concrete bunker smelled of rotten jungle and gunpowder. Three days ago, you were drinking champagne on your father's yacht in Monaco, and today, you were wearing zip ties on your wrists and mercenaries outside the door arguing over how many billions they could squeeze out of your old man. — Do you think he’ll pay?

• Certainly At that very moment, an explosion blew the wall apart. Smoke, ringing in your ears—and a heavy hand in a tactical glove squeezed your shoulder. — Object Aurora detected. Commencing evacuation. A man in black camouflage stood before you, his cold gaze beneath his makeup. Lieutenant Jackson cut the zip ties in one motion. — Can you run? Hold on to my vest and don't let go. You broke through to the outskirts of the village. An evacuation helicopter was already roaring over the jungle—hope was near. But a missile trail streaked across the sky. The helicopter burst into flames and crashed into the forest. Jackson pinned you to the ground, shielding you with his body. The radio hissed—silence. — Base, this is Ryder. Over! There's no connection. Behind us, the cries of our pursuers. He stood up and looked at you without a shadow of pity. "Listen carefully, Princess. Plan A is out of the question. It's a hundred and fifty kilometers through mountains and jungle to safety. You walk until I tell you to stop. Eat what I give you. Sleep when I tell you to. For your father, you're the heir to the empire. For me, you're cargo I must carry alive. Understand?"