The convoy moved silently along the coastal road, the black SUVs blending into the night. Rowan's team, coordinated with Julian and Lucian's operatives, tracked Rambo's scouts in real time, closing in for the interception.
Roselyn sat in the tactical vehicle, her hands gripping the edge of the seat, every nerve alive. Her gift pulsed—a low, insistent warning beneath her skin.
"He's close," she whispered.
Rowan glanced at her, eyes sharp. "Stay focused. Remember, trust your instincts—but don't act alone. We cover you."
Ahead, the scouts' SUVs rounded a curve. Rowan's driver accelerated, cutting off the lead vehicle in a controlled maneuver. Tires screeched as the scouts realized they were trapped.
"Engage," Rowan ordered.
The operatives moved with lethal precision. Doors opened, and armed agents emerged, moving with synchronized efficiency. Bullets pinged off the asphalt, some ricocheting into nearby barriers. Smoke grenades popped, shrouding the road in a haze.
Roselyn ducked instinctively, heart pounding. Her eyes flitted to the shadows—she could sense movement before it even appeared. One scout tried to flank them from the right. She raised her hand, whispering Rowan's name.
Rowan spun, catching the man mid-lunge, disarming him with a swift, brutal motion. Roselyn's pulse raced, the taste of adrenaline sharp.
Julian's voice crackled over the comms. "Well done. Keep them contained. We move on Rambo's location next."
Lucian added, "Remember, this is just a distraction. Rambo himself is waiting. Patience and precision."
Rowan nodded, eyes scanning the surrounding terrain. "Roselyn, stay close. We're moving."
The scouts were subdued or captured, but Rowan knew this was just the beginning. He glanced at Roselyn, who met his gaze, fear mingling with determination.
"You're doing well," he said quietly. "Stay sharp. One step closer to him, and we take him down together."
As they secured the last scout vehicle, Roselyn's gift flared violently—an almost unbearable tingling sensation crawling over her body. She froze, sensing an approaching presence, heavier and darker than the scouts.
"Rowan… he's here. He's near."
Rowan's jaw tightened. "Get down!"
From the treeline, a black helicopter emerged, its rotor blades slicing through the night air. Rambo himself was visible in the open side door, flanked by two heavily armed men. A wicked smile stretched across his face as he leveled a scoped rifle at them.
"You think you can touch me?" Rambo shouted over the wind. "Your little family reunion ends tonight. No one escapes me!"
Rowan dove forward, pulling Roselyn behind cover as a hail of bullets tore through the asphalt. Sparks flew as metal and stone chipped from the road.
"Roselyn, stay low!" Rowan barked.
But she couldn't stay still. Her gift flared, a compulsion to act, to anticipate, to survive. She pushed herself forward, grabbing a rifle from one of the operatives. Her hands were steady, eyes locked on the helicopter.
Rowan's breath caught—she was fighting, not just defending herself. She had grown stronger, sharper, faster.
The operatives returned fire, forcing Rambo's men to retreat into the helicopter. The rotor blades kicked up debris, the noise deafening. Rowan grabbed Roselyn, pulling her to safety behind a thick barrier.
"Roselyn!" he shouted. "We can't take him down here. Too risky. You understand?"
She nodded, chest heaving, eyes wild. "I know… but I can feel him. He's… coming for me."
Julian's voice came through the comms, calm but commanding. "This was expected. Let him make the next move. We're ready. We've set the trap."
Lucian added, "We control the battlefield. He won't escape the perimeter. Not this time."
Rowan's hand found Roselyn's. He squeezed gently. "We face him together. Nothing happens to you. I promise."
She leaned slightly into him, drawing strength from his presence. "I trust you," she whispered.
Above, the helicopter circled again, and Rambo's laughter echoed into the night, cruel and confident.
But down below, the combined forces of Rowan, Roselyn, and her family—father and grandfather—were ready.
The first clash had been won.But the war with Rambo was just beginning.
And this time, the stakes were no longer just survival—they were vengeance, family, and the end of a nightmare that had haunted them all.