Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Kane

K ane stood on the edge of the excavation site, his gaze sweeping across the ruins bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. The air was thick with the dry heat of the Syrian desert, the kind that clung to your skin and filled your lungs with every breath. Despite the oppressive warmth, Kane's senses were sharp, his body taut with the constant vigilance that had become second nature to him.

He had been in this place for over a week now, and each day was a study in contrast. The ancient city that Maggie and her team were painstakingly unearthing was a testament to human endurance and creativity, yet the surrounding landscape spoke of violence and turmoil. The locals whispered of nearby militia activity, and while the dig was sanctioned and protected by the Syrian government, Kane knew better than to put any trust in official assurances. Danger was always lurking just out of sight, waiting for a moment of weakness.

Kane's eyes found Maggie, as they did far too frequently, who was standing in a trench, meticulously brushing away centuries of dirt from a broken column. Even from this distance, he could see the intensity in her expression, the way her brow furrowed in concentration. It was a look he had come to recognize in her—a mix of determination and reverence, as if she were communing with the past itself.

Over the years, his duty had been to neutralize or eliminate threats as opposed to protecting someone's older sister. But there was no way he'd allow anyone to take on this responsibility. There was something different about Maggie. It wasn't just her intelligence, though that was undeniable, or her passion, which she wore on her sleeve. It was the way she threw herself into her work with an almost reckless abandon, a single-minded focus that often made her forget the world around her—forget the dangers that could strike at any moment.

That stubbornness frustrated him to no end. Kane was used to working with professionals who understood the importance of caution, who followed orders without question. Maggie, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on pushing boundaries, testing limits. It was maddening, and yet... he couldn't help but admire her for it.

Kane shook his head, pulling his focus back to the perimeter of the site. This wasn't the time to be distracted, especially not by the person he was supposed to be protecting. But the truth was, Maggie had been a constant presence in his thoughts since the moment he arrived. She challenged him in ways he wasn't used to, and that intrigued him. Maybe more than it should.

As the day wore on and the sun dipped lower in the sky, the team began to pack up their tools, preparing to retreat to their tents for the night. Kane stayed on the edge of the site, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. The workers were moving slower than usual, their fatigue evident after another long day under the relentless sun. Kane's instincts told him that this was the most vulnerable time—when exhaustion set in, and vigilance slipped.

His gaze drifted back to Maggie, who was reluctantly handing off her tools to one of the assistants. She was talking animatedly, her hands moving as she explained something about the column they had been uncovering. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her face flushed from the heat and exertion. Even from a distance, Kane could feel the energy radiating off her.

But with that excitement came the inevitable carelessness. Kane had lost count of how many times he had to remind her to stay within the secured areas, to not wander off alone, to always be aware of her surroundings. And every time, she had pushed back, insisting that she knew what she was doing, that she didn't need a babysitter.

Kane let out a slow breath, willing himself to remain calm. Protecting Maggie was his job, and he took that responsibility seriously, even if she made it harder than it needed to be. But her refusal to adhere to safety protocols grated on him, not just because it made his job more difficult, but because he genuinely cared about her safety. More than he should.

As the last of the team headed back to camp, Kane took one last sweep of the site before following. The sun had nearly set, and the temperature was beginning to drop, the desert's warmth giving way to a cooler, more comfortable night. But even as the physical heat dissipated, something else simmered just beneath the surface—something Kane had been trying to ignore.

That night, Kane tossed and turned in his cot, sleep eluding him despite the exhaustion that pulled at his muscles. His mind kept drifting back to Maggie, to the way she had looked earlier in the day, her hair falling loose from its braid, her skin glowing with sweat and sun. He could still see the way she had smiled as she uncovered a particularly well-preserved artifact, the light in her eyes so bright it had taken his breath away.

Kane rolled onto his back, staring up at the dark canvas of the tent. He needed to get a grip. Maggie was his charge, nothing more. And she was a friend's sister. Men like Kane didn't have many friends, and they didn't mess with the sisters of those he'd come to care about. It didn't matter how smart, or beautiful, or frustrating she was—his job was to protect her, not to think about her in any other way.

But try as he might, the thoughts wouldn't leave him. He could still feel the pull of her presence, the way she occupied his thoughts even when she wasn't around. And as he lay there, the image of her smiling face morphed into something more—a vision of her standing before him, not in the dusty ruins of Syria, but in a place more private, more intimate.

In his mind's eye, Maggie was standing in his tent, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes fixed on him with a look that was equal parts curiosity and desire. She was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body, smell the faint scent of sweat and earth that clung to her skin.

Kane sat up, reaching out to her, his fingers brushing against the soft curve of her waist. Her skin was warm, her breath hitching as his touch lingered. She didn't pull away—instead, she stepped closer, her hands coming to rest on his chest, fingers splaying out over his heart.

He could feel the quickened beat of his pulse beneath her touch, the tension in the air thick and heady. There was a moment of stillness, of breathless anticipation, before she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a feather-light kiss. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when he didn't pull back, she pressed harder, her lips parting to deepen the kiss.

Kane's hands moved to her back, pulling her closer, his need for her eclipsing all other thoughts. The kiss grew more urgent, more demanding, as if years of pent-up desire were being released all at once. He could feel her responding in kind, her body pressing against his, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He broke the kiss only long enough to trail his lips down the line of her jaw, to the soft skin of her neck. She gasped, her hands tangling in his hair as he explored the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. The sound of her breathless moans was like fuel to a fire he had been trying to suppress, and it blazed hotter with every passing second.

His hands roamed over her body, finding the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head in one swift motion. She helped him, lifting her arms and letting the fabric fall to the ground. He took a moment to look at her, to drink in the sight of her standing before him, her skin glowing in the dim light of the tent.

She was beautiful, more than he had ever allowed himself to admit, and the sight of her like this—bare, vulnerable, and completely open to him—stirred something deep within him. He reached out again, this time with more urgency, his hands finding her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. She shivered under his touch, her head falling back as she let out a soft moan.

Kane's lips followed the path of his hands, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of her chest, her stomach, until he was on his knees before her. He looked up, meeting her gaze, and saw the same desire mirrored in her eyes. Without a word, she nodded, giving him the permission he didn't need but wanted all the same.

He pressed his lips to her belly, his hands sliding down to her hips, gripping them firmly as he kissed his way lower. She shuddered, her breath coming in short gasps, her fingers gripping his shoulders as he reached the waistband of her pants. He paused, looking up at her again, and when she nodded once more, he pulled them down, letting the fabric pool at her feet.

She stepped out of them, and Kane took a moment to appreciate the sight of her standing completely naked in front of him. She was perfect—every curve, every line of her body like a work of art, and he couldn't resist the urge to touch, to taste.

His mouth found her again, this time lower, his lips pressing against the soft skin of her inner thigh. She gasped, her hands tightening their grip on his shoulders as he teased her, kissing and licking his way closer to where she wanted him most. When he finally reached her core, she let out a low moan, her hips bucking forward as he tasted her for the first time.

Kane's world narrowed to just this—just her, the feel of her in his mouth, the sound of her moans, the way her body trembled under his touch. He could feel her getting closer, her breaths coming faster, her grip on his shoulders almost painful as she rode the wave of pleasure he was giving her.

But just as she was about to tip over the edge, the sound of something outside the tent pulled him back to reality. Kane blinked, the dream fading away before he could keep it from evaporating. Something was wrong. Grabbing his weapon, Kane slipped out of his tent through a back slit he had created the first night he was in camp.

The night air was cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the day. The camp was quiet; the only sounds were the soft rustling of the desert breeze and the distant call of some nocturnal creature. The sky was a deep indigo, scattered with stars that seemed to shine brighter out here, far from the lights of civilization.

Kane took a deep breath, letting the crispness of the night clear his head. It had been a long day, filled with tense discussions and the constant vigilance that came with protecting a high-profile archaeological team in a volatile region. But something didn't sit right with him, something beyond the usual concerns of security and safety. There was an undercurrent of unease that he couldn't shake, a sense that they were all standing on the edge of a precipice without knowing what lay below.

As he turned to head toward the perimeter, a flicker of movement caught his eye—a shadow shifting near the excavation site. His muscles tensed, every instinct on high alert. The workers were all accounted for, and the site had been cleared hours ago. Whoever—or whatever—was out there had no business being there.

Moving swiftly, but silently, Kane's steps barely stirred the sand beneath his boots. He kept to the shadows; his eyes locked on the area where he had seen the movement. The night was his ally, and he used it to his advantage, blending into the darkness as he approached.

The closer he got, the more his senses sharpened. He could hear the faint rustling of fabric, the sound of breathing—someone was definitely out there. Kane brought his M27 up into the firing position, his fingers wrapping around the grip with a familiarity born of years in the field. He approached the excavation site, every nerve on edge, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

As he rounded a large rock that jutted out from the ground, he caught sight of the intruder. The figure was crouched near one of the partially uncovered stone slabs, their attention focused on the symbols etched into the ancient rock. Kane could see the glint of something metallic in their hand—possibly a tool, but it could just as easily be a weapon.

Kane stepped closer, his voice low and commanding. "You're not supposed to be here."

The figure froze, his head snapping up to look at him. In the dim light, Kane could make out a man, middle-aged, with a look of panic in his eyes. The man scrambled to his feet, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender, but Kane didn't relax. His finger hovered near the trigger, ready to act if the situation escalated.

"Who are you?" Kane demanded, his tone leaving no room for lies.

"I-I'm just a local," the man stammered, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean any harm. I was just curious… about the dig."

Kane's eyes narrowed. The man's story didn't add up. No local would risk sneaking into a guarded site just out of curiosity, especially not at this hour. "What were you doing with that stone?" Kane asked, his voice icy.

The man hesitated, his gaze flicking nervously between Kane and the slab. "I… I was just looking. I heard stories… about what's buried here. I wanted to see it for myself."

Kane didn't believe a word of it. "You've seen enough. Now get out of here before I decide to take you in for questioning."

The man nodded rapidly, clearly eager to escape. He backed away slowly, then turned and bolted into the darkness, his footsteps fading into the night. Kane watched him go; his eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was more to this than a simple trespasser. The man had been too interested in the symbols, too intent on whatever he had been doing.

Syria's laws regarding their ancient objects were harsh, and locals knew better than to risk it. There was a market for antiquities, and the prices could tempt some, but like so many things, stealing and smuggling relics had fallen to more organized, better-funded, and well-armed organizations.

Kane knelt beside the slab, examining it closely. There was nothing immediately out of place, but his instincts told him that the man had been searching for something specific. He made a mental note to inform Maggie and the rest of the team in the morning, though he doubted they would sleep any easier knowing that someone had been poking around their dig site.

He stood, his mind already moving to the next task. There was a strategy session scheduled for later, one he had been dreading but knew was necessary. Colonel John Carter had joined them and had been unusually tight-lipped about the full scope of his mission and the role his team played in it. Kane was determined to get some answers. Whatever was happening here, there was more to it than anyone knew. He might be here to protect Maggie, but he had expanded his own responsibilities to include protecting the entire archaeological team, and Kane needed to know what he was up against.

The strategy session was held in a large, reinforced tent that served as the command center for the operation. The space was dominated by a table strewn with maps, satellite images, and various reports. A few military personnel were gathered around it, their expressions serious, though their eyes flicked to Kane with a mixture of respect and wariness as he entered. Colonel Carter stood at the head of the table; his tall, imposing figure framed by the dim light of the lanterns hanging overhead.

Kane walked in, his presence commanding attention. He didn't bother with pleasantries, moving directly to the table and taking a seat across from Carter, laying his M27 on the table. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken questions and hidden agendas.

Carter wasted no time, his voice curt as he began the briefing. "Our primary objective remains the same—the protection of Dr. Dillon and her team. However, recent developments have forced us to reassess the situation."

Kane's eyes narrowed. "What developments?"

Carter met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "We've received intelligence that suggests the site may be of interest to more than just academic circles and the Syrian's Department of Antiquities. Certain factions in the region have taken an interest in the artifacts being uncovered, and they may attempt to take control of the site."

Kane leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. "What aren't you telling me, Colonel? What's really at stake here?"

Carter's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "That's classified, Chaplin. All you need to know is that we're dealing with a potential threat, and it's your job to ensure that threat doesn't materialize."

Kane's frustration flared. "That's not good enough. I don't answer to you, and my only actual responsibility is to protect Dr. Dillon. I've expanded that to include her bunch of archaeologists, but now you're telling me there's more to it? I need to know what we're up against."

Carter's eyes flashed with irritation, but he kept his tone controlled. "You're a contractor, Chaplin. Your job is to follow orders, not to question them."

Kane's hand curled into a fist beneath the table. He had dealt with plenty of military brass in his time, and he knew when someone was holding back vital information. But Carter's stonewalling was putting them all at risk, and that was something Kane couldn't accept.

"If you expect me to cooperate with you and take lead on protecting these people, I need the full picture," Kane insisted, his voice a growl. "I don't care about your classified bullshit. If there's more at stake than you're letting on, I need to know what it is."

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between Kane and Carter thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Carter sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "All right, Chaplin. I'll give you this much: there's a belief that the artifacts Dr. Dillon is working to uncover could be of significant value—not just historically, but strategically. There are… certain parties interested in acquiring them for reasons that go beyond simple academic curiosity."

Kane's mind raced as he absorbed this information. "Strategically? You mean they could be weaponized?"

Carter didn't answer directly, but the look in his eyes was enough. Kane sat back in his chair, the pieces of the puzzle starting to come together. He'd wondered why the military had made their presence known a couple of days after his arrival. This wasn't just about protecting Maggie and her team from local militias or opportunistic thieves. This was about something far more dangerous—something that could shift the balance of power in the region, or even beyond.

"Why wasn't I told this from the moment you got here?" Kane asked, his voice calm but laced with anger.

"Because it wasn't your concern," Carter replied, his tone cold. "Your job is to keep them safe, and that hasn't changed. The specifics of the mission are above your pay grade."

Kane's eyes narrowed. "You have no idea what my pay grade might be. Cerberus pays its people really well. And if those specifics put my team at risk, they are my concern."

Carter leaned in, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Cerberus was allowed on this dig site because of your reputation, Chaplin. You're one of the best at what you do, but that doesn't give you the right to question my orders. You do your job, and I'll do mine. Understood?"

Kane held his gaze for a long moment, the air crackling with unspoken defiance. But he knew this was a battle he couldn't win—not here, not now. He nodded once, a terse acknowledgment of the chain of command, even if he didn't like it.

"Understood," he said, his voice flat.

Carter straightened, satisfied. "Good. Now, let's move on to the next item on the agenda."

But Kane barely heard him. His mind was already turning over what he had just learned, the implications sinking in like a cold weight in his gut. From the time Carter and his men had arrived, Kane had known there was more to this mission than met the eye, but now he had confirmation. He'd alerted Cerberus of Carter's arrival; he needed to ensure they knew of these newest developments. And now, Kane was more determined than ever to see this through.

As the meeting continued, Kane's thoughts were elsewhere. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were sitting on a powder keg, and any misstep could set it off. He needed to be ready, to anticipate every possible threat—because whatever was buried beneath the sands of this ancient city, it was worth killing for.

When the meeting finally adjourned, Kane left the tent, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. The night air felt cooler now, the darkness more oppressive. He started toward his tent, but a movement near the excavation site caught his attention.

His instincts flared to life, the soldier in him instantly on high alert. Without a second thought, Kane changed course, moving silently through the shadows toward the source of the disturbance.

The area around the site was still and quiet, the ruins standing like silent sentinels in the night. But Kane's keen eyes picked up the slight shift of a shadow, the almost imperceptible sound of a footstep on sand. Someone was out there, watching.

Kane's hand went to his weapon, the cool metal a reassuring presence at his side. He moved closer, his senses attuned to every sound, every flicker of movement. This was no ordinary trespasser—whoever it was knew how to move in the dark, how to avoid detection. But whoever it was, wasn't as good as Kane.

He rounded a corner, his eyes scanning the area, and caught a glimpse of a figure slipping between two crumbling walls. They were fast, but Kane was faster. He moved in pursuit, his steps silent as death.

The figure darted ahead, disappearing into the shadows of the ruins. Kane followed, his body tense, ready for anything. He knew these ruins better than anyone—every corner, every hidden alcove. The intruder was heading toward a dead end, and Kane intended to catch them there.

He turned a corner, his gun at the ready, but the space was empty. The figure had vanished, leaving only the faint echo of their footsteps behind.

Kane scanned the area, his frustration mounting. Whoever it was, they were gone. Was it the man he had seen before? But this time, they had left something behind—a warning that this was far from over.