And yet.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He wasn’t a good man; he knew that much. But was he this kind of man?

The voice from the back broke through again; raw, desperate. “Please… you don’t have to do this.”

Elijah squeezed his eyes shut for half a second before snapping them open again, forcing himself to focus on the road. He had chosen this path. There was no turning back now.

The emptiness of the savannah stretched ahead of him, endless and merciless. Out here, a body could disappear. Out here, nature would take its course.

Elijah’s foot eased off the gas.

He had a choice to make. And time was running out. Chang would expect him back soon with some sort of proof that the deed had been done.

***

Bette had remained silent, processing the news Nyah had just delivered. Her jaw tightening, her posture stiff.

“Joseph is sure of it,” Nyah continued, her voice lower now. “Chang won’t let this go. He has ways and means to find out who derailed yesterdays’ operation.”

Bette exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face. The foundation, the rangers, even her own family; who wasn’t at risk if Chang decided to retaliate? He was methodical, ruthless. His influence ran deep, and his money ensured that people either stayed silent or disappeared.

Nyah shifted her weight, eyes scanning the surrounding area as if expecting danger to emerge at any moment. “It won’t be an immediate attack. That’s not how he operates. He’ll wait. Observe. And then he’ll strike when we’re unprepared.”

Bette met Nyah’s gaze, her mind already calculating. Would he come for her? The rangers? The foundation? Would he send someone, slip in through the cracks of their lives like a shadow?

She thought of Tina. Of Angelica. Of the world they were trying to rebuild between them.

Nyah seemed to read her mind. “You need to be careful, Bette.” A pause. “And you need to decide how far you’re willing to go.”

Bette swallowed, her throat dry. She had spent years fighting for what was right, but this, this was something else.

This wasn’t just about the poachers anymore.

This was war.

***

Elijah turned the battered van off the main dirt track, the tires crunching softly over the gravel. Ahead, nestled against the rise of the land, was the familiar sprawl of the boma, the circular enclosure of thorn and timber, home to his people and his past.