Emmy wiped away her tears, wanting to yell out for him to be careful.
Before she could say a word, a sudden splash broke the silence by the water.
She whipped her head around.
Someone burst out of the river, shoving a cold gun right against her head.
His voice was rough and ragged as he shouted, “Freeze! Nobody move!”
Dean spun around, his eyes wide with shock.
It was Pearl.
His heart dropped. “Pearl, don’t do anything stupid! Let her go, please—just let her go!”
All around, more special ops soldiers stepped out from the shadows. Almost every drug runner in the camp was already down.
Will’s voice crackled in James’s earpiece, tense and urgent. “Boss, Pearl didn’t get away—he’s got Emmy!”
Up above in the bamboo house, James’s grip was rock steady on his gun as he answered, cold as ice. “I see him.”
He kept his gun locked right on Pearl’s head.
Will’s voice came through again, desperate. “James, don’t shoot! We need Pearl alive!”
Those were the orders. Pearl had to make it out alive. He was the only way to take down the whole criminal web behind this mess. If he died, even a perfect rescue would be a failure.
James’s knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping his weapon, but finally, he started to lower it.
Pearl noticed and grinned, yanking Emmy up off the ground.
He shoved the gun harder against her. “Get me a boat! Now! Or I’ll shoot her right here!”
Dean was frantic. “Okay, okay, just calm down!”
He turned, shouting at the team, “You heard him! Get a boat, now!”
But nobody moved.
Everyone’s eyes were locked on James—still up there, still in charge.
James jumped down from the balcony in a couple quick moves, landing solidly.
He raised his hand, signaling.
One of the captured traffickers, shaking, scrambled to get a boat ready under the guns of the special ops.


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