Chapter Thirty Seven

Sri Lanka.

Jaffna Peninsula.

They’d walked for just over a mile from the chopper landing site, and Chantal stumbled to keep up. Approaching the thirty-five-hour mark—aside from half a protein bar—she hadn’t eaten. Desperately thirsty and exhausted from her two-day ordeal, Chantal’s weakening body felt uncooperative. All she cared about was Gage. Staring numbly ahead through eyes swollen from tears, she prayed he lived. He’d lain bleeding, beaten and surrounded the last time she’d seen him. He had to have found a way. Gage wouldn’t give up on fighting for his life or for her rescue. The alternative would destroy her heart—her soul. 

They’d flown north and had stopped once to refuel. Chantal guessed—from what she’d seen on the approach—that they were on the outskirts of a coastal town which looked familiar. The

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