Three months later. The morning mist still clung to the jungle canopy when Katya spotted them – two black SUVs winding down the dirt road to the eco-lodge, kicking up clouds of red dust. Not Ethan’s modest rental sedan. These were armored, professional. Dangerous. She grabbed Clyde’s hand, pulling him inside the lodge where Ethan was packing his bag for his weekly visit back to Manila. "They’re here," she said, her voice tight. "My family." Ethan dropped his bag, moving to the window. Through the glass, he saw men in dark suits filing out of the vehicles – at least six of them, all with the same rigid posture, the same cold focus. One man stood apart, older, silver-haired, his face familiar from the news clips Katya had once shown him. "Your father," Ethan stated quietly. Katya nodded, pulling Clyde close. "I thought I’d escaped him. How did he find us?" Before she could answer herself, a knock sounded at the door – firm, deliberate, leaving no room for refusal. Ethan moved to
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