Chapter 93

"Commander, the signal interference is too strong!" The technician wiped sweat from his brow as he frantically adjusted the equipment. "This island must have military-grade jammers."

The commander slammed his fist against a tree trunk. "Damn it!"

He remembered the special orders from his superiors before the mission: "Damian Cross's identity is highly sensitive. Ensure his safety at all costs."

"Move faster!" the commander barked. "We have to find the hostages before nightfall!"

The team exchanged uneasy glances. Everyone knew how brutal the Obsidian Circle could be.

"At least the hostages are still alive," the deputy commander said, trying to reassure them. "They won't kill them outright."

Meanwhile, the director huddled in the corner of the wooden cabin, sick with regret. He never imagined his carefully planned Island Crucible show would turn into a real-life fight for survival.

The door creaked open.

Aria Bennett and the others were shoved inside.

"You too—?" The director paled.

Caleb Monroe smirked bitterly. "Thanks to you, this is turning out to be quite the adventure."

Wesley Hart cursed outright. "You picked a fantastic spot!"

Aria scanned the room, her gaze lingering for a second on Serena Blake, who was trembling in the corner.

"Arguing won't help," she said softly. "Conserving our energy is what matters."

Her calm voice had an inexplicably soothing effect, and the group fell silent.

The door swung open again.

A burly middle-aged man pointed at Aria. "You. Come with me."

Damian Cross and Nolan Reed immediately stepped in front of her.

"You want to take her?" Damian's voice was ice. "You go through me first."

The man pulled out a pistol. "Move."

Aria tugged lightly on their sleeves and whispered, barely audible, "Opportunity."

Damian gave a barely perceptible nod. "Be careful."

Nolan reluctantly stepped aside. "If anything happens, scream. We’ll come for you."

Aria followed the man to the central cabin. When she stepped inside, her breath caught.

A masked man sat at the table, his long fingers tapping rhythmically against the wood.

"Sit," he said, his voice deep and cold.

Aria feigned wariness. "Who are you? Why call me here alone?"

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath the mask. "I hear you're skilled in metaphysics?"

"I know a little," she replied carefully.

Suddenly, he leaned forward, and Aria caught a faint scent of cedar—the same cologne Silas Kane had favored in high school.

"You're... different," he murmured, his tone unexpectedly gentle. "That's why I want to help you."

Her pulse quickened. His eyes—they matched the boy she remembered.

"Help me?" She pretended confusion. "What do you mean?"

He stood and walked to the window. "Rescue is coming in two days. When it does, leave with them."

Aria studied his back. "Do I know you?"

He stiffened slightly before turning, his demeanor cold again. "No. I just respect talent."

But Aria noticed the way his right hand absently brushed his left arm—exactly where Silas's birthmark had been.

A terrifying thought struck her: Was this man really Silas Kane?