IV: The Wired and the Wild

The moment the plane’s wheels touched the runway in Palawan, Leona Reyes felt a profound sense of relief. The suffocating weight of Manila, the oppressive feeling of Julian Santiago’s world, began to lift. Here, the air was thick with humidity and the scent of the sea and damp earth, a familiar and comforting embrace that felt like coming home. This was her sanctuary.

She bypassed the main terminal, her mind a whirlwind of worry, heading straight for the small, private hangar where a rugged jeep was waiting for her. Her lead field researcher, a young man named Carlos whom she had trained herself, was pacing impatiently beside it, his face etched with worry. “Doc Leona, salamat at nakarating ka na,” he said, his voice a mix of relief and urgency. "Things are getting worse. Malala na."

Leona’s heart hammered against her ribs. She threw her duffel bag into the back of the jeep and hopped into the passenger seat. “What happened? The message cut off. Tell me everything.”

Carlos started the engine and sped away from the airport, the paved road quickly giving way to a dusty, unpaved trail. He spoke quickly, his words tumbling out. “They’re not just after timber, Doc. This isn’t the work of our usual illegal loggers. They’re too organized. They’re well-equipped. They have high-tech gear, satellite phones, and they’re not hiding. It’s like they have a license to be here.”

Leona’s mind went straight back to the office in Makati, to the arranged marriage contract, and to Julian Santiago. The memory of his cold, calculating eyes sent a shiver down her spine. A license to be here. The words felt like a betrayal of the highest order. Could he have sent them already? Was this all a calculated move to get what he wanted before she could stop him? Was the deal nothing more than a cover story for a more sinister corporate invasion?

“Anong mga lugar ang na-breach nila?” she asked, her voice tight with tension. She had to know if her deepest fear was coming true.

Carlos pulled out a crumpled map from his bag, a physical copy a stark contrast to the holographic maps Julian had been looking at in his luxurious office. He pointed to a small, remote sector in the southern part of the reserve. “Dito, Doc. It’s the old logging trail. Pero, we found strange markings here.” He circled a part of the map. “Hindi ‘to basta basta. Parang may hinahanap silang iba, hindi lang mga puno. They're digging in the earth.”

Leona felt a cold dread settle in her stomach, a feeling that had nothing to do with the jungle's humidity. That sector was too close to her father's secret garden, too close to the sacred ground where the Dahon ng Buhay grew. It was the heart of the forest, a place only a handful of people knew about. She had a sudden, terrifying premonition that Julian Santiago’s true obsession was not just a plant, but something much bigger. Something ancient and powerful. Something connected to the very secret her father died protecting.

They reached the outskirts of her foundation’s research camp. It was a rustic, no-frills setup nestled deep within the trees, with simple nipa huts and a central kitchen. Leona got out of the jeep, the sounds of the jungle—the chirping of cicadas, the call of a hornbill, the distant gush of a waterfall—a familiar symphony that calmed her frayed nerves. She was back in her element. She belonged here.

She addressed her small team, her voice firm and resolute. “We move immediately. Pakalat kayo, at i-monitor ang bawat galaw nila. No direct confrontation. I don’t want anyone hurt. We will document everything and report it to the authorities. Stay alert. They are not what they seem.”

Her team, a small but dedicated group of researchers and local guides, nodded in silent agreement. They trusted her completely. She had fought for them, protected them, and stood as a fierce guardian of the land they all loved.

Just as they were preparing to move out, the sound of rotors grew loud in the distance, a deafening noise that felt alien and intrusive in the tranquil environment. The trees rustled violently as a sleek, black helicopter descended, kicking up dust and leaves, scattering her team’s equipment and blowing away their calm. It was the same model Julian had used to leave Manila.

Leona’s blood ran cold. He was here.

The helicopter landed on the small clearing, the downdraft a violent storm in their peaceful camp. The side door slid open, and a man in a perfectly tailored suit stepped out. Julian Santiago. He looked utterly out of place, a creature of glass and steel in a world of earth and green. Behind him followed a small group of men in tactical gear, looking more like a private army than a scientific team. They carried advanced gear—scanners, high-resolution cameras, and what looked like geological survey equipment. They looked ready for a war, not a research expedition.

Their eyes met across the clearing. The air, already thick with the scent of the forest, now crackled with an unspoken challenge. Julian’s expression was unreadable, a cool mask of a man in complete control. Leona, on the other hand, felt a fire ignite inside her. His presence here, his sheer audacity to bring his world into hers, was an unforgivable insult.

She walked towards him, her strides long and purposeful, her sandals making no sound on the forest floor. The jungle was her domain, and she was the queen of it. He stood his ground, a fixed point in her moving world.

“Mr. Santiago,” she said, her voice laced with ice. “I didn’t expect you to join the expedition so soon. The legal documents haven't even been filed with the local provincial office yet.”

Julian took off his sunglasses, his eyes holding a direct, unblinking intensity. He looked her up and down, a slow, deliberate gaze that felt both analytical and infuriatingly condescending. “Dr. Reyes,” he replied, his voice a low, smooth rumble that seemed out of place in the wild. “I prefer to be hands-on with my projects. And the name is Julian. I believe that’s how a husband and wife should address each other.”

The words were a direct hit, a reminder of the contract that bound them, the one she wanted to forget. Leona felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but she didn’t back down. The war was no longer a cold, calculated game of signatures and words. It was real. It was here. And it was just beginning.