The train chugged along at a leisurely pace. After an unknown amount of time, it finally came to a stop.
Outside, the sound of a lock being opened echoed through the air, followed by the clanking of the freight car door sliding open. A young man with golden hair peeked inside, then gestured for them to come out.
Brian led the group out of the carriage. The sky was already dim, suggesting nightfall was near.
After shutting the freight car door, the young man said something in Ukrainian. Brian responded in the same language before waving for everyone to board a nearby truck.
The truck's headlights flickered to life in the dimly lit station. The young man took the driver's seat, Brian sat beside him in the passenger seat, and the vehicle slowly rumbled into the wilderness.
The blonde kid was likely another contact arranged by Mashkov. The rest of the group sat quietly in the cargo bed. Alex had long since changed into regular clothes—his prison jumpsuit had been discarded somewhere along the way.
Night had fully fallen. They were deep in the wilderness, with no lights in sight—just pure darkness.
The truck drove through the pitch-black landscape for about an hour before arriving at a small airstrip. In the distance, a small aircraft sat on the runway, its lights glowing brightly against the darkness.
The truck came to a stop. Without needing to be told, everyone disembarked. Owen jumped down first, followed by Alex, who was unceremoniously tossed out. They then escorted Alex onto the plane.
As soon as they boarded, the truck turned around and drove away, while the aircraft's door closed behind them.
Inside the plane, Brian was already greeting the pilot. To Owen's surprise, the pilot was Jim—Brian's old friend and one of the security team members from that concert with Sam.
"Hey, Owen! Heard you guys are up to something crazy. I can't wait!" Jim said cheerfully.
Owen gave him a nod in greeting.
The door shut tight, the engine roared louder, and the plane began taxiing down the runway before taking off into the sky.
Under the moonlight, the landscape below was clearly visible.
Alex leaned against the window, watching as the scenery shifted from land to open sea. His face lit up with excitement—he knew he was finally leaving the United States. Once they crossed this ocean, they'd reach Colombia. And once he was there, no one could touch him.
"Hey, guys, be honest—why don't you work for me? You're all incredibly skilled, both in brains and combat. I'd like to hire you," Alex said excitedly.
He truly admired their abilities. Even as their former enemy, he had to acknowledge their strength. Breaking him out of such a desperate situation wasn't something just anyone could pull off.
But his words were met with an awkward silence. Some people didn't even glance at him—just shut their eyes and ignored him completely.
Brian remained in the cockpit, chatting with Jim, while the rest of the group maintained their silence.
After giving a brief rundown of tasks, ASH instructed everyone to get some sleep.
The past two days had been exhausting—they had barely gotten any rest while planning and executing the heist. And once they arrived in Colombia, there would be another intense battle waiting for them. ASH knew they needed to take every opportunity to recover their strength.
Owen dozed off as well. The previous night, he had barely gotten four hours of sleep after working on explosives with Heatwave. By the time he woke up again, the plane was already preparing for landing.
"Oh ho! Welcome to Colombia~~~~"
Jim's loud, excited whoop echoed from the cockpit. Owen had no idea where this guy got so much energy.
Inside the cabin, the only person who looked equally thrilled was Sweetie. Apparently, her enthusiasm for Colombia wasn't just talk—she genuinely thought this place was great.
Owen moved to the window, peering outside. The sky was already beginning to brighten, meaning they had flown all night.
The landing site was another desolate area. The grass along the runway had grown waist-high.
It made sense—judging by the situation, this flight was most likely unauthorized. If they had dared to land at Bogotá's main airport, the authorities would have had handcuffs waiting for them before they even touched the ground.
The plane came to a halt, and the cabin door swung open.
The moment they stepped off, Owen saw Sam and Wright waiting for them outside.
"Hey, buddy! Long time no see! I heard your little girlfriend got kidnapped by some damn Colombian cartel, hahaha…"
Sam greeted him with a hug, while Wright exaggeratedly teased him.
Owen didn't bother explaining—he knew exactly what kind of person Wright was. The more he tried to clarify, the more relentless this guy would be.
Wright was an odd one—despite being a big, burly tough guy, he had an insatiable thirst for gossip.
"Hey, Sam. Wright. Good to see you guys."
Owen hugged them both before introducing ASH and the others.
A moment later, Brian joined them, and the old friends embraced once again.
"Man, we're finally going on a mission together again! Hahaha, Rangers forever!"
As they shouted "Rangers forever" in unison, Owen realized these guys weren't just colleagues—they were former military buddies from the same unit. No wonder they had such a strong bond. One phone call, and they were ready to risk their lives together.
That piqued Owen's curiosity—he wanted to ask more about their past, but now wasn't the time.
Two vehicles were parked nearby. The group climbed in and set off once more.
In the lead car, Sam drove while Brian sat in the passenger seat.
"How's the situation?" Brian asked.
"There's been a development. After that CIA operation, Brancato Montel has become much more cautious. He's no longer in Bogotá—he's moved back to his family estate in Cali. That's his turf. Even the government has no power over him there."
"He relocated?"
Brian frowned. That meant all the intel they had gathered beforehand was now useless. But that was just how things went—when dealing with unpredictable forces, unexpected changes were inevitable.
"I've reached out to a contact. His people are keeping an eye on the situation for us. He's a leader of a Colombian resistance group."
Brian remained skeptical.
"Can we trust him?"
"Absolutely. I've worked with them many times. These guys are hardcore Colombian nationalists. They don't just oppose the government—they hate the cartels too.
Over the past two years, the Montel family has been expanding their drug empire by capturing and enslaving people—especially in their stronghold in Cali.
Using both local warlords and their own private army, they've been forcing captives to work around the clock in their cocaine labs.
People die there every single day. Most members of the resistance have personal vendettas against the cartels. So when I asked them to join us, they agreed without hesitation."
Before long, they arrived at Sam's temporary base. Owen finally met the resistance leader Sam had mentioned.
His name was Bridge Kassim, the leader of a small militant group called "Glory." The organization had only about fifty members.
Sam introduced everyone. Bridge then said, "Not long after you guys left this morning, a group of about ten men arrived. They looked like mercenaries. They were transporting a woman—probably your friend. Oh, I took a picture…"
He handed them a photograph. Though the distance made the facial features slightly unclear, the group instantly recognized Monica.
"Where is she being held?"
Heatwave asked, visibly tense. The fact that they had found a lead on Monica so quickly boosted morale. But Bridge's next words weren't exactly good news.
"We don't know. We don't have any contacts inside the estate, and we're unfamiliar with its layout. We can't confirm whether your friend is actually being held there.
However, mansions like these typically don't have dedicated private prisons. Most likely, she's locked in one of the rooms."
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[w w w . p @ t r e o n . c o m / M u t t e r]