Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The desert sun beat down like a furnace on the ancient sands of Egypt. Even in the early morning, heat waves shimmered across the horizon.
At a remote dig site tucked between crumbling cliffs and forgotten dunes, the rhythmic scrape of shovels rang out, echoing against the silence of the past.
Dozens of workers were clearing away layers of sand from the sealed entrance of what appeared to be a previously undiscovered royal tomb.
Watching them, stood a beautiful brunette woman in a sunhat and dusty tank top, her sharp eyes scanning the work as though seeing far beyond it.
Lady Lara Croft, archaeologist and adventurer, watched with anticipation.
Months of research, a hastily acquired key, and a trail of mercenaries left in the dust had led to this moment.
“Keep going, we’re almost there,” she urged, eyes fixed on the stonework gradually emerging from the sand.
“Don’t worry, Lara. It’s not going anywhere,” came a deep, good-natured voice beside her.
She turned to face Jonah Maiava, her loyal companion and moral anchor, sweat dripping from his brow.
“Yes, but we’re not the only ones looking,” Lara replied.
Her eyes flicked to the dunes in the distance. Still, but too still. There was a tension in the air she couldn’t shake. A feeling she’d learned never to ignore.
“You’re just being paranoid, Lara, this place hasn’t seen life in a thousand years,” said Samantha Nishimura, walking up with a canteen.
“We didn’t exactly make friends when we left Moscow, Sam,” Lara muttered, accepting the water but barely tasting it.
The desert wind stirred hot and dry, swirling sand around the excavation pit as the workers continued to dig.
Lara pulled out a cracked leather old field journal, her father’s, from her bag.
She flipped it open to a page marked with a pressed flower long dead. Diagrams, symbols, and hand-drawn maps. And near the bottom, a rough sketch of a strange metal shard.
‘Egypt. Near the Temple of Sekhmet. If the legends are true, it sleeps there—something older than the tombs, older than history. Not meant for man. But they’ll come for it anyway. I must find it first.’
—Richard Croft
Lara’s jaw tightened. The late nights. The ridicule he endured. No one had believed him.
Lara closed the journal and stood, tucking it carefully into her satchel. Her eyes scanned the horizon again. Still nothing but endless dunes. But the feeling hadn’t left her.
Someone else was out there. Watching.
Lara adjusted her gear, and she paused only to glance back at the rising sun, heat shimmering across the golden horizon.
At that moment, a shout went up. The last of the sand had been cleared. An ornate stone door lay before them, sun-bleached and sealed tight. The hired workers gathered tools, chisels, ropes, crowbars, and went to work.
After several minutes of groaning rock and sweaty curses, the stone door gave way and crashed to the ground, sending dust pluming into the air.
A dark, yawning tunnel stretched into the earth. An invitation and a warning all at once.
Lara didn’t hesitate.
“Come on, Jonah,” she said.
The air grew cool and dry as they descended, flashlights flickering to life and illuminating hieroglyph-covered walls. Jackals, stars, and ancient kings watched them in silence.
Lara paused, running her fingers over a smooth stone surface as though touching time itself.
Jonah followed, careful but curious.
“Ever get tired of this?” he asked.
“Never,” she assured him.
Moments later, she raised her hand, stopping Jonah mid-step.
“Careful,” she said.
She tossed a pebble ahead. A faint click. Then, with a mechanical snap, spikes erupted from the walls, skewering the space where Jonah’s leg would’ve been.
“Holy—thanks,” he breathed.
The tunnel narrowed, sloping downward into a low-ceilinged chamber choked with dust and silence. Hieroglyphs covered the walls, more intricate and stylised than any they’d seen so far. In the centre of the room stood a massive stone relief, six feet tall and wide, carved with concentric circles filled with symbols of gods, stars, and animals.
She stepped forward as Jonah shined his light, eyes scanning the glyphs. At the heart of the carving was a sun disc, flanked by three inlaid rings that could clearly rotate. Around them: markings for Ra, Anubis, Sekhmet, and a dozen other deities.
“There's no keyhole,” Jonah said, confused.
“Exactly, because we have to earn it,” she said.
She set her fingers to the outer ring. It shifted slightly under pressure, heavy, but smooth.
“The riddle’s in the positioning. These gods all represent time and judgment. This must have been a test to keep tomb robbers out. Or at least make them think twice,” Lara explained.
Jonah backed away instinctively.
“Tell me you’re not just guessing?” he asked.
Lara ignored him, flipping open her father’s journal again. A passage was underlined:
‘Only when the goddess faces the dying sun will the passage open. The hunter must rise before the lion rests.’
“Sekhmet faces west at dusk… Horus rises before her… Ra dies each day only to return,” Lara whispered aloud,
Her hands moved with precision, spinning the inner ring so Ra pointed to the west quadrant, Horus above it, and Sekhmet directly opposite.
The floor vibrated faintly. Stone ground against stone.
A section of the relief retracted inward, revealing a hidden panel. Sand spilt from its edges.
Lara stepped closer. There, inset into the wall, now exposed and glinting faintly with gold, was a keyhole.
Got it,” she said under her breath.
Jonah exhaled hard.
“So glad you paid attention in ancient puzzle class,” he said.
Lara reached into her pack and retrieved a jewel-encrusted key. The one she’d stolen in Moscow a week ago under gunfire and lies. She brushed dust from the lock, slid the key in, and twisted.
The mechanism groaned awake. A deep grinding shook the tunnel.
With a loud rumble, the doors parted.
Dust and stale air exploded outward, and Lara and Jonah raised their arms to shield their eyes.
What lay beyond was staggering, revealed as Lara and Jonah snapped and tossed glowsticks to light the room.
A grand burial chamber, untouched by time. Gold-plated jars. Ivory statues. Jewels were piled in shallow basins. But Lara’s eyes skipped it all; it didn’t interest her.
She and Jonah stepped toward the gleaming obsidian sarcophagus in the centre.
They approached carefully.
She and Jonah slid the heavy lid aside.
Inside lay a long-forgotten king, wrapped in the fragile decay of time. But it wasn’t the king Lara cared about.
In his withered hands lay a silver metal shard, sharp-edged, glowing faintly with an unnatural energy. Cold, alien. A shape her father had drawn in his notes. A relic she’d chased for years.
“It’s here,” she whispered happily.
She pried the shard from the king’s hand. It was cold, unnaturally so to the touch. She slipped it into her bag.
"Let's go," Lara whispered.
But they didn’t make it far.
Four men stepped into the chamber, boots crunching on the sand, all armed with pistols.
Leading them was a man Lara had dealings with before.
“Ah, always one step ahead of the scholars,” said the man, smooth and smug.
His name was Halim Faheem. A charming but notoriously untrustworthy Egyptian antiquities dealer.
Faheem’s white linen suit was dusty but immaculate. With his sunglasses perched on his head, his smile was sharp as ever.
“Faheem, figures you'd slither your way down here,” Lara said, ice in her voice.
He gave a mock bow.
“Lady Lara Croft, tomb raider and troublemaker,” he said with a smirk.
Two of the gunmen stepped forward, weapons raised.
Lara didn’t flinch. They forced Lara and Jonah to their knees. They quickly relieved Lara of her pistols, tossing them aside.
Faheem stepped over to the sarcophagus. He frowned as he looked in.
Where is it, Lara?” he asked sharply.
“Where’s what?” Lara replied coyly.
“Do we really have to play this game, Lara?” said Faheem with a sigh.
“Who are you working for, Faheem?” Lara asked.
Faheerm’s snake-like grin widened.
“Oh, you don’t think I’m going to tell you, do you?” he answered.
“For the right amount, you might,” said Lara coldly.
Faheem scowled, his humour depleted. He snapped his fingers at his men.
“Search her,” he ordered.
Jonah moved to stop them but was forced back at gunpoint.
“Now, now, Mr Maiava, let’s not, shall we?” said Faheem.
It was then, Lara noticed movement in the shadows behind Faheem and his men.
“Lara, I know you have it,” said Faheem, getting annoyed.
He pulled a pistol and pointed it at her head. Jonah's eyes widened, but Lara was focused on the moving shadows getting closer.
Faheem pressed his pistol against Lara’s head, his finger on the trigger.
“I wouldn’t do that, mate,” said a voice threateningly from the darkness, with a British accent.
Faheem and his men spun as four heavily armed men and one woman in special ops tactical gear stepped out from the shadows, with assault rifles raised.
One wore a skull-patterned balaclava. Another had a massive dog in a canine tactical vest at his side.
Faheem’s men snapped up their pistols, but the soldiers fired first, dropping them with no trouble. Their rifles only made soft thwacks, thanks to the attached suppressors.
Shocked and confused, Faheem whipped his pistol back to Lara.
The big soldier snapped a command. The big German Shepard leapt at Faheem.
Faheem screamed in pain as the dog powerfully bit down on his arm. His pistol fell to the sand.
“Blitz, heel,” ordered his handler in German.
The dog let go instantly and bounded over to stand by the man.
Faheem fell to his knees, moaning in pain as he clutched his bloody arm. He then found himself staring at a rifle pointed at his head.
“Don’t move,” growled the man from behind his skull mask as he kicked the pistol away.
The woman and one of the other men checked on Faheem’s men, finding them all dead.
The unit’s commanding officer stepped forward, rifle slung against his chest. He held out his hand to Lara.
She took it, noticing the British flag on his vest as she was helped up.
“Well, thank you for the rescue,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am, got here just in time,” he said with a grin.
The big soldier, the one with the Australian flag on his shoulder and the powerful German Shepherd at his side, extended a gloved hand and helped Jonah to his feet.
“Appreciate the rescue, but who exactly are you?” Lara asked, brushing sand from her clothes.
The man with the thick moustache, calm and commanding, grinned.
“Captain Johnathan Price, SAS, ma’am and this is Task Force 141,” said the man.
“Ghost, Soap, Huntsman, and Valkyrie,” he said, introducing them.
Call signs only, real names not needed at this time.
Lara just nodded. She had trained and worked with the SAS before. Task Force 141 did sound vaguely familiar. She didn’t know if they could be trusted just yet, though.
“Why are you here, Captain?” Lara asked.
“Someone high up thought you might have gotten yourself into some trouble, guess they were right,” said Price.
Faheem was pulled to his feet, closely watched over by the one called Huntsman and his dog. The dog growled, baring his teeth, daring the dealer to try anything.
One of Price’s men, the one in the skull mask, Ghost, held his fingers to his ear.
“We got company approaching,” he then said to Price.
Price nodded. He turned to Lara as the woman, Valkyrie, handed her pistols back to her.
“Might be best if we make our leave,” said Price.
It wasn’t a suggestion. With no other choice, Lara and Jonah, with Faheem were escorted out of the tomb.
Back outside, the dig site was littered with bodies, mercenaries Faheem had brought along, now sprawled in the sand. Faheem didn’t look at them, they were just expendable hired muscle to him.
Sam was safe and sound, standing with yet another SAS operative.
“Lara! You’re alright!” she exclaimed.
“I’m fine. You?” Lara asked.
“They stormed the site right after you went in. But these guys showed up and took them out,” Sam explained, glaring at Faheem.
“What about the workers?” Lara asked.
“Ran off when the bullets started flying,” Sam said.
The operative by Sam made his way over to Price. He had a tablet in his hand.
“Too many,” muttered Price, looking at the screen.
He walked over to Faheem with the tablet.
“They yours?” he asked, showing him the tablet screen.
The man didn’t answer, but his face went pale.
On the tablet, Lara saw several armoured military vehicles, jeeps and motorbikes speeding across the dunes. Live surveillance footage from a spy drone high above them.
“It must be who he is working for,” said Lara.
Faheem didn’t answer and just scowled.
“We need to move,” ordered Price.
Quickly gathering up their gear, they jumped into Lara’s trusty jeep and the SAS vehicles, along with the captive Faheem.
Leaving the dig site and the tomb behind, Lara, Jonah and Sam being now escorted by SAS operatives, sped off into the desert.
Lara had found the first shard; now the search for the next piece had begun…

Chapter Text

An unmarked military transport plane cut through the morning sky as it flew over the Mediterranean Sea.
It bore no flag, no insignia, just silent authority and clearance codes that would keep curious radar operators from asking questions.
In the cargo bay, the five men and one woman of the elite special forces team codenamed Task Force 141 were moving about with calm precision, checking weapons, securing packs, and inspecting vehicles.
The seventh and final member of the team sat next to his master, ears perked and watching silently, clad in a new custom-made tactical vest.
Captain Jonathan Price, British SAS and commanding officer of the unit, made his way through the cargo bay. He stopped to give the big German Shepard a friendly pat.
Price nodded at the dog’s handler, Sargent Jack ‘Huntsman’ Wyatt. He was a tall, powerfully built man with brown military style cropped hair. His looks were a hit with the ladies wherever he went, but now his heart belonged to his beautiful fiancée.
“All good, Sargent?” Price asked.
The Australian operator gave Price a nod back.
“Yes, sir,” he assured.
“Blitz, liking the vest?” Price asked.
Jack just smirked as the dog looked up at his name.
“I think he’s fine with it now,” said Jack, giving Blitz a scratch behind the ears.
Blitz barked softly in response. He wasn’t exactly accustomed to wearing the vest yet, but he was tolerating it.
Price continued down the plane. His second in command was checking over the team’s weapons and gear with another member of the unit.
Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Reilly and Sergeant John ‘Soap’ Mactavish had been with Price the longest. Ghost in his signature skull mask and Soap with his youthful looks and sharp blue eyes, were ready for the mission.
They had never let him down.
Price made his way over to the last two members who were checking over the unit’s vehicles, two fast utility Land Cruisers, painted in desert camo.
Lieutenant Ida ‘Valkryie’ Hoffman smiled at Price.
She was tall, athletic, but quite beautiful. Her brunette hair was tied back in a tight braid beneath her tactical headset.
While technically newly assigned, from the German KSK, she wasn’t new to the team. She had more than proved herself on their last adventure.
Sergeant Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, on the other hand, was new to the team.
His close-cropped hair gleamed under the interior lights, his deep brown eyes sharp and focused beneath a furrowed brow.
Price hadn’t requested a new team member, but command had been unwavering.
He wondered if the Sergeant had been placed on his team to report back to their superiors, the powers that be, not fully trusting them yet.
“We’re good to go, sir, we got the latest models too,” said Gaz, indicating the vehicles.
“Sounds good, Sargent,” said Price with a nod.
Price’s phone pinged. He looked at it, reading what had just been sent to him, then frowned.
He moved to the aircraft’s compact ops station, flipping a switch. One of the wall-mounted monitors hummed to life.
“Alright, gather up,” he ordered.
The team stood from their jump seats and circled in.
The screen lit up with a photo of a woman, early twenties, striking and serious-eyed. Her clothes were dusty, a tank top and cargo jeans, but her posture radiated control.
The name printed below the image was already familiar.
“As you already know, we’ve been ordered to locate and retrieve, if necessary, a well-known and connected archaeologist,” said Price.
“Lady Lara Croft,” said Ida.
“Yes, seems it’s not all so simple, someone maybe after her,” said Price.
They all exchanged looks at this.
“We’ve just received intel that she might have brought this trouble on herself,” explained Price.
He tapped the screen.
“About a week ago, Miss Croft may have stolen a priceless artefact in the possession of this man,” said Price.
A surveillance photo of a man in a dark bespoke suit came up. He was thick-set, with slicked-back black hair and ice-pale eyes.
“This is Mikhail Orlov, also known in the black market as ‘Orlov the Collector’,” said Price.
They all looked at the dangerous-looking Russian man, flanked by his bodyguards.
“Former KGB, turned arms dealer with a taste for rare antiquities,” said Price.
“So Croft stole something of his and now he wants it back?” asked Jack.
“Yes, it looks that way,” said Price
“So we’re protecting a thief?” asked Ghost with a growl.
Price just shrugged.
“I don’t think the government would send us if that was the case,” said Price.
He didn’t sound so sure, but if Croft was in trouble, it was their duty to help her.
“Well, as long as we’re not investigating strange bunkers in the forest, sir,” said Soap
Gaz just looked confused as the others exchanged knowing, agreeing looks and nods. There was something shared, but the newest member didn’t know what.
He could only guess it had something to do with their highly secretive last mission. A mission he wasn’t supposed to ask about and had only heard wild and unsubstantiated whispers about.
“No, no bunkers hopefully,” said Price in agreement.
He turned off the monitor. There was a ping over the plane’s speakers.
“We’ve reached Cairo, prepare for landing,” the plane's pilot announced over the intercom.
The early desert morning wrapped around the transport plane like a shroud as it descended through the low clouds.
Cairo glittered faintly, heat-blurred lights on the horizon, muffled by sand and smog.
The plane touched down with a jolt, tires screeching as it bounced once, then roared along the cracked runway. Dust billowed out from the wheels, trailing behind it.
They rolled to a stop. The airstrip was silent and empty, exactly how Price liked it.
The rear ramp dropped with a hiss, and Task Force 141 moved fast—boots hitting sand, weapons slung, gear tight. The morning heat was already creeping in, clinging to the concrete like a second skin.
Waiting at the edge of the tarmac stood a man and a woman in civilian clothes. Well-tailored, but dusty enough to suggest they weren’t just paper pushers.
“Morning. Welcome to Cairo,” said the woman with a crisp British accent.
Price gave a short nod as he approached.
“Morning,” he said.
They were Agents David Trent and Amina Desai, MI6 field ops. The team's local contacts. Both efficient, both clearly under pressure.
Trent raised a tablet, bringing up a satellite map.
“Croft and her team headed south yesterday. We tasked a drone. She set up camp here, a dig site along a ridge near Sekhmet’s Temple,” he said.
He pointed to a red marker blinking on the screen.
Price studied it, then glanced at the others.
“Copy that, any sign of Orlov?” he asked.
Trent shook his head.
“Not yet. But he won’t be far behind. He doesn’t like being embarrassed, and Lara made him look stupid in Moscow,” he said heavily.
Price arched a brow.
“So did she take it?” Price asked.
Trent and Desai exchanged a look.
“I know Lara personally, let’s just say she has a habit of acquiring things that aren’t exactly cleared through customs,” said Trent.
“She’s not a thief, not professionally, just...persistent,” said Desai.
That was good enough for Price.
He turned to his team.
“Let’s move,” he ordered.
Behind them, the Task Force’s Land Cruisers were being offloaded from the plane.
Huntsman opened the rear door of one and gave a short whistle. Blitz leapt inside, landing smoothly and ready.
“Drone’s still airborne,” Trent said, handing the live feed tablet to Gaz.
The screen lit up: a busy dig site, sun-blasted and bustling, just on the edge of nowhere.
“Good luck,” Desai said, stepping back.
Without another word, Task Force 141 loaded up and rolled out.
The early morning haze clung to the outskirts of Cairo like smoke, softening the rising sun as it filtered through crumbling buildings, satellite dishes, and narrow alleyways.
Task Force 141’s Land Cruisers moved in tight formation, their engines a low growl beneath the waking city.
Street vendors were just beginning to set up, children riding bikes down dusty footpaths, and stray dogs picking through bins.
The vehicles didn’t draw attention. Locals knew better than to stare too long at tinted windows and foreign plates.
In the lead vehicle, Captain Price adjusted his comms earpiece and scanned the GPS screen mounted on the dashboard.
“We clear?” he asked.
Ghost, behind the wheel, nodded.
“Next right, then it’s open road,” he said.
The last of the city gave way to concrete sprawl and scrub. The Land Cruisers headed south down the main highway that stretched into the vast, sun-bleached desert.
Inside the second vehicle, Jack followed Price, Soap and Ghost, his focus unwavering. Blitz lay in the back seat beside Ida, alert but calm.
Gaz was riding shotgun, glancing occasionally at the drone feed on his tablet.
“Anything?” Jack asked.
“Nothing, yet, they are just digging out something,” said Gaz with a frown.
Ida checked her rifle in silence, then looked up.
“So she steals something extremely valuable from a dangerous Russian arms dealer and then just begins a dig in the Egyptian desert?” she asked, voicing what they were all thinking.
No one had an answer. That would have to wait.
The city had soon long vanished behind them, swallowed by shimmering waves of heat.
Ghost slowed, then pulled off the highway onto a smaller road.
That road then soon ended, and the two Land Cruisers carved a trail through the shifting desert, tires crunching over loose gravel and hard-packed dunes.
The sun was rising fast, burning off the last of the morning haze and bathing the terrain in stark, unforgiving light. Every ridge and shadow felt sharper out here, closer.
Inside the lead vehicle, Captain Price adjusted the strap of his rifle and leaned forward slightly in his seat. The digital map on the dashboard showed their blinking position crawling ever closer.
“ETA five minutes,” said Ghost.
In the trailing vehicle, Huntsman kept a tight grip on the wheel as they bounced across a stretch of uneven rock. Blitz shifted slightly in the back, ears twitching at the sudden lurch. He sat up, focused, nose pressed to the gap in the window, breathing in the unfamiliar air.
Gaz suddenly looked up from his tablet.
“We have a problem,” he announced.
On the screen, several men with weapons were now at the dig site.
“Captain, multiple armed males are at the dig site; they don’t look friendly,” radioed Gaz.
Price frowned and exchanged looks with Ghost and Soap.
“Copy that,” he said.
The Land Cruisers skidded to a stop behind a low dune, dust rolling off their tires. Price was out first, rifle up, eyes scanning.
They all stealthily made their way up to the top of the dune.
Crouching down, they saw the dig site.
And there were the armed men. Five of them. Pacing lazily. No uniforms. No discipline.
Civilians sat huddled on their knees, frightened expressions on their faces.
“No warning. No noise. Go,” whispered Price.
They moved like wraiths.
Soap and Gaz peeled left. Two guards barely had time to blink before Soap and Gaz’s suppressed rifles thwacked. Double taps, both hostiles down.
On the right, Ghost and Ida dropped another near some crates, clean shots through sand and silence.
At the tomb entrance, the last guard turned to see Blitz lunging. Too late.
The dog hit him square in the chest, dragging him down as Huntsman moved in fast, rifle coughing.
Silence returned. Five seconds. Five bodies down.
The civilian workers didn’t hesitate; they got up and fled without a word.
A young Asian woman was the only one left.
“Lara and Jonah, you have to save them,” she begged, pointing to the open tomb door.
The team looked at the tomb entrance with hesitation. Memories coming back.
“You just had to jinx it, didn’t you?” said Ghost to Soap.
Soap just looked sheepish and shrugged.
“Stay here,” said Price to Gaz.
He nodded, moving over to the woman.
Without a word, the team slipped into the darkness after Price, boots silent on stone.
Task Force 141 moved in formation, NVGs dropping into place, rifles raised, every step calculated.
The air grew thick and stale the deeper they went, carrying the weight of dust, age, and something else, unease.
Their night vision caught the glint first, metal spikes, jagged and rusted, jutting from the walls like jaws sprung open mid-bite.
“Booby trap. Recently triggered,” said Ghost.
They paused. The stone beneath the trap bore scuffed boot marks, fresh and erratic. Someone had come this way—and nearly didn’t make it out.
Price gave a silent hand signal. They moved on, tighter now, stepping over the pressure plate with deliberate care.
Further in, the tunnel narrowed. Ancient carvings flanked them. The only sounds were their breath, the soft scrape of boots, and the slow grind of centuries.
Blitz growled as they heard talking coming from further down.
They paused at the entrance to a grand burial chamber. In the massive chamber, glow sticks glinted off gold-plated jars and ancient stone walls.
And in the centre, Lara Croft and another man, who had to be Jonah, were on their knees, surrounded by four armed men.
Captain Price moved at point, rifle tight to his shoulder. Ghost and Ida flanked him, with Soap, Huntsman, and Blitz close behind.
At the head of the group stood a dark skinned man in a white suit, pistol aimed at Lara’s head, his voice smug and rising in anger.
“Lara, I know you have it…” he demanded.
That was enough.
Price stepped from the shadows.
“I wouldn’t do that, mate,” he said coldly, rifle levelled.
The men spun. They raised pistols.
Too slow.
Ghost and Ida opened fire. Two clean shots dropped the nearest gunmen before they could fire.
Soap took the third, a burst from his suppressed rifle sending him spinning into the sand.
The last man, the leader, turned back to Lara. Jack snapped out a command, and Blitz leapt.
The man screamed as teeth sank into his arm, and his pistol clattered to the sand.
“Blitz! Heel!” Jack ordered.
The dog released instantly and bounded back to his master.
The leader of the group staggered, clutching his now bleeding arm. Only to look up into the barrel of Ghost’s rifle.
“Don’t move,” Ghost growled, kicking the man’s pistol away.
Price stepped forward and offered a hand to Lara, who took it without hesitation.
“Well, thank you for the rescue,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am, got here just in time,” he said with a grin.
Jack helped Lara’s friend Jonah up as Blitz looked around curiously.
“Appreciate the rescue, but who exactly are you?” asked Lara as she brushed sand from her clothes.
Price just grinned.
“Captain Johnathan Price, SAS, ma’am and this is Task Force 141,” he replied.
He turned to the others to introduce them.
“Ghost, Soap, Huntsman, and Valkyrie,” he said.
Lara just nodded with a slight recognition on her face.
“Why are you here, Captain?” she then asked.
“Someone high up thought you might have gotten yourself into some trouble, guess they were right,” said Price.
Soap and Ghost pulled the groaning Egyptian man to his feet. Blitz growled threateningly.
Ghost then held his fingers to his ear. The others also heard Gaz’s radio call.
“We got company approaching,” Ghost said to Price, even though he had heard what Gaz had just radioed.
Price nodded. He turned to Lara as Ida handed the woman’s pistols back.
“Might be best if we make our leave,” said Price.
With the injured man bundled between Jack and Soap, they all made their way back out of the tomb.
“Lara! You’re alright!” exclaimed the Asian woman as they appeared out into the sun.
“I’m fine. You?” Lara asked.
As the woman explained, Gaz came over to Price with the drone tablet.
On the screen were several unmarked armoured military vehicles, jeeps and motorbikes speeding across the dunes in their direction.
“Too many,” muttered Price with a frown.
He walked over to Lara and the still-injured man.
“They yours?” he asked, showing him the tablet screen.
The man didn’t answer, but his face went pale.
“It must be who he is working for,” said Lara.
“We need to move,” ordered Price as the man didn’t say anything.
Lara didn’t argue. She and her friends, Jonah and Sam, grabbed their gear, shoving it hastily into the back of their dusty jeep.
The man Lara had now identified as Faheem was pushed into one of the Land Cruisers.
With Lara's jeep sandwiched between the two Task Force 141 vehicles, the small convoy sped off, heading back to Cairo and safety.
Price frowned as the vehicles bounded over the dunes. He looked back at Faheem in the back seat, who was being reluctantly patched up by Ida.
Price didn’t know what was going on, but he was going to get answers.
The lady adventurer had kicked up a hornet's nest, now they’d all have to wait to see just how bad the sting would be..

Chapter Text

The desert blurred past as the convoy sped across the sand, the lead SAS vehicle kicking up a trail of dust that shimmered in the rising heat. In her jeep, Lara sat quietly, her mind miles behind them—still inside the tomb, still standing over the king’s sarcophagus.
The dig site was now a scene of blood and death. The first shard had been secured. But nothing about it felt like a victory.
Lara hadn’t expected Faheem to move so fast. He was slippery, ruthless, and rarely late to anything worth stealing. She had hoped to be in and out before he even knew she was in Egypt.
She was wrong.
Still, if Task Force 141 hadn’t arrived when they did.
Lara glanced ahead at the vehicle in front and hoped the SAS operatives didn’t start asking too many questions.
Because Lara Croft wasn’t ready to give them all the answers just yet.
They soon reached the end of the smaller road and powered onto the main highway, heading north back to Cairo.
“Do you get it? do we have the shard?” asked Sam.
Lara’s eyes widened. In all the excitement, she had forgotten to tell Sam. She reached for her bag, pulling out the shard.
It was still cold to the touch, and in the bright daylight, it still glowed unnaturally.
“Yes, we have it,” she said, eyes sparkling.
Her father’s life's work was beginning to come true. She placed the shard carefully back in the bag.
“So the next piece, where do we start?” asked Jonah.
Lara flicked through her father’s journal.
“Father believed another one of the pieces was hidden in the outback,” she said.
“Australia?” asked Sam.
Lara read out the passage from the journal.
"The elders spoke of a place where the stars once fell — a scar in the red earth, guarded not by walls, but by silence. If the map is right, then the second fragment lies buried beneath the dreaming stone, far beyond where roads end. Australia, I’m sure of it,"
Lara looked at Jonah and Sam, who both looked puzzled.
“Alright, so Australia next. How are we going to ditch these guys?” Jonah asked as he gripped the steering wheel.
Lara looked at the Land Cruiser in front, then the one behind.
“Somehow, I don’t think they’ll allow that,” she said knowingly.
The Land Cruisers and Lara’s Jeep, between them, roared down the main highway. Engines kicked up heat and dust as the convoy pushed north.
Price in the lead vehicle, eyes narrowed on the sweating man slouched in the rear seat.
“So just who the fuck are you?” Price asked him.
“My name is Halim Faheem,” said the man coldly.
“Do you work for Orlov?” Price asked.
Faheem recognised the name and gave a hollow chuckle.
“Orlov? Ha, that thug, no,” said Faheem with a displeased look.
Price just stared, measuring him.
“So what? You were trying to beat him to whatever Croft was after, or has?” Price asked.
“I had a buyer, that’s all you need to know,” said Faheem.
“What is it?” Price demanded.
Faheem leaned forward, his face now serious.
“You don’t understand what she’s stolen. It’s not Orlov’s and it’s not meant for her either,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.
Before Price could ask what he meant, three black SUVs on the opposite side of the road screeched to a halt.
Tires screamed as they whipped around in tight U-turns and barreled into pursuit.
“We got company,” yelled Ghost.
Price twisted in his seat, eyes locking on the lead SUV already gaining fast. It pulled alongside, windows darkly tinted. One rolled down, and a man leaned out, SMG in hand.
Ghost veered away quickly as gunfire hammered into the side of the Land Cruiser.
Glass exploded everywhere. Ida dove for cover, shielding her face.
Faheem wasn’t fast enough.
A burst hit him square in the chest and head. He slumped, lifeless, blood spattering the seat as his body dropped limp.
Price and Ida reacted instantly. They drew their sidearms and fired back in unison, clean shots.
They each hit the driver, who collapsed over the wheel. The vehicle swerved hard, clipped the highway barrier, and launched into the air. It flipped violently before slamming into a ditch in a burst of flame and twisted metal.
“One down,” Price growled.
Behind them, the second SUV rammed into the rear Land Cruiser, jarring the vehicle violently. Blitz barked, snarling from the back seat, while Soap gripped the wheel and fought for control.
“Hold on!” Soap snapped, narrowly avoiding a collision with Lara’s jeep just ahead.
Gaz leaned out the window, braced, and opened fire. Short bursts from his SMG punched into the SUV’s hood and through the windshield. The passenger dropped, dead, before he hit the dashboard.
But the SUV wasn’t deterred and kept coming.
Another gunman popped up, returning fire, forcing Gaz back inside.
Jack quickly grabbed the sleek compact grenade launcher from inside the glove compartment. He primed it, flicked off the safety and opened his window.
As the SUV sped up to ram them again, Soap gunned the engine. The enemy vehicle clipped their rear bumper with a loud crunch, jostling Jack hard. He held steady and leaned out again. He aimed the launcher and fired.
The grenade sailed high and then came down in the middle of the SUV’s windshield.
The SUV exploded spectacularly, launching into the air. It flipped twice, then slammed into the pavement, rolling in a flaming heap on the road.
Cars behind it came to a screeching halt to avoid it.
In front, Lara’s jeep was under siege.
The third SUV pulled alongside, ramming them hard. The jeep lurched sideways with a scream of tyres and metal.
Jonah’s window shattered, showering him with glass.
“Shit!” he shouted, struggling to stay on the road.
The SUV ground against the jeep, sending sparks flying. One of the SUV passengers leaned out, grabbing for the steering wheel.
“Watch out!” Sam screamed, ducking behind the seat.
Jonah struggled as the man grappled with him.
Lara didn’t hesitate. She quickly drew a pistol and fired point-blank at the man. Sam screamed at the loud gunshot filling the car.
The man was hit, letting Jonah go. The SUV veered off as Lara pivoted and fired at the driver. The now-dead passenger fell out of the vehicle, flopping and rolling onto the road.
Soap sped up to ram the SUV heavily from behind. It careened out of control into the opposite lane.
It fishtailed, skidded and then spun sideways into the path of an oncoming semi-trailer.
The truck ploughed through the SUV, folding it like paper. Metal screamed. Fuel ignited. The semi dragged the wreckage a hundred meters before both vehicles came to a fiery stop.
Smoke rose behind them. The highway was pure chaos. Civilian drivers hit the brakes, some scrambling off-road to avoid the burning wrecks.
In the lead vehicle, Price looked out the window, jaw clenched.
“Keep going,” he yelled over the radio.
No one was going to argue.
In Lara’s jeep, Jonah groaned. His face was bruised and had glass cuts, but he stayed steady as he continued to follow the SAS Land Cruiser.
The second SAS vehicle came alongside them. Jack, Soap and Gaz looked over to check if they were alright. Lara nodded and waved that they were all ok.
The Land Cruiser fell back again.
“Are you ok, Jonah?” asked Sam.
“I’ve had worse,” Jonah joked, but they could hear the pain in his voice.
The convoy moved fast, engines growling as they sped along the sun-scorched highway, leaving behind the smoking wrecks of three enemy SUVs and a trail of shattered glass.
Inside the lead Land Cruiser, Price sat rigid, pistol held tightly as the city skyline shimmered in the distance. The tang of burnt rubber still clung to the air.
“That wasn’t some local hit squad,” Price muttered.
Ghost nodded in agreement.
“Vehicles were coordinated. Tight formation. Military discipline, Orlov’s men, maybe?” he mused.
In the back seat, Ida wiped dried blood from her gloves. Faheem’s body was slumped beside her.
“They were aiming to kill everyone. Not capture. That was an execution run,” she said flatly.
Price didn’t answer. His jaw tightened as he stared out at the endless dunes rolling by.
In the second vehicle, Soap, Jack and Gaz drove in silence, eyes locked on the road. Blitz rested his head between the front seats, panting lightly, still keyed up from the fight.
“So Orlov’s people. Or someone else?” asked Gaz.
“Someone wants Croft dead or wants what she’s carrying,” Jack said without turning.
“Or both,” said Soap heavily.
In Lara’s jeep, Lara looked down at the satchel by her feet, fingers brushing over the flap. She could still feel the alien shard inside—ice cold, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat that didn’t belong in this world.
“They knew exactly where to hit us,” she murmured. “The question is... who told them?”
“I think we should stay with these guys, Lara,” said Jonah.
Lara just nodded. The SAS operators would be handy to keep around, at least for now.
She stared up at the skyline ahead, buildings growing larger through the heat haze.
The convoy pressed on, engines howling through the desert wind. The road ahead was open, but the path forward was anything but clear.
Everyone tensed as several police cars, with sirens wailing, sped passed in the opposite direction, heading to the crash site.
They pushed quickly through the edge of Cairo, weaving through tight side streets and sun-drenched alleys, flanked by crumbling concrete buildings and rusted balconies. Locals glanced up from fruit stalls and newspaper stands, eyes lingering for a moment on the battered Land Cruisers and jeep, then quickly looking away.
Task Force 141 was silent but tense. Price kept his eyes moving, scanning every rooftop and alleyway entrance.
Behind them, Soap, Jack and Gaz kept their heads on a swivel. Blitz was sitting upright and alert.
The dog’s ears twitched every time a motorbike buzzed past or a car horn barked in the distance.
“Keep moving, stick to the route,” Price ordered over comms.
Inside Lara’s jeep, the mood was still tense. Jonah drove cautiously, avoiding potholes and overloaded tuk-tuks. Sam peeked out the back window, still shaken, fingers curled tightly around the seat belt.
Lara glanced at the rooftops and looked at the sidewalks. On the street, as they passed, two young boys kicked a ball back and forth, and a man in robes smoked a cigarette.
She couldn’t tell which ones were harmless and which were watching.
The convoy turned off a narrow road and passed through a rusted security gate. An old hangar loomed ahead, marked by faded paint and reinforced by makeshift barriers. The airfield stretched out behind it, shimmering under the morning sun.
The military transport that brought Task Force 141 in was gone, replaced by a sleek, unmarked private jet waiting on the edge of the tarmac, turbines spinning quietly.
Near it, Agents Trent and Desai stood flanked by a small team of MI6 operatives. Their faces were grim. Tension clung to the morning air like the desert dust.
The convoy rolled to a halt, engines still hot from the run through the city. Doors flew open, and the team split out. Lara, Jonah, and Sam, alongside Task Force 141, all of them moving fast.
Lara spotted Trent and froze for half a beat.
“David?” she said, eyes narrowing.
He stepped forward, urgency in every word.
“No time, Lara. You need to be gone, now. The Egyptian authorities are going to want answers for all the mayhem you’ve caused,” he said.
“Was it Orlov?” Price cut in.
“We don’t know, but whoever it was, you’ve made someone mad; we can’t protect you here,” said Desai, her voice hard.
Lara wanted to argue, but she wasn't going to be able to convince them otherwise.
Desai's eyes flicked toward the back seat of the Land Cruiser, where Faheem’s body sat slumped over.
“We’ll handle the cleanup and your vehicles. But you need to be in the air five minutes ago,” she ordered.
Sirens began to howl in the distance, closing fast.
That was all the confirmation they needed.
Their gear and bags were grabbed, and weapons slung.
As the agents began driving the Land Cruisers and Lara’s jeep away, the others sprinted toward the waiting jet. An MI6 agent at the top of the stairs waved them on board.
Inside, the cabin was all leather seats and low lighting. Comfort wrapped around urgency.
They barely got strapped in before the engines roared. The jet taxied hard, wheels screaming as it turned and accelerated down the strip.
No clearance. No questions.
Just escape.
Through the small windows, Cairo blurred beneath them, slipping away as the aircraft climbed fast into the sky.
Lara leaned back in her seat, eyes closed. The weight of the shard in her satchel felt heavier than ever.
This was just the beginning.
When the plane had safely left Egyptian airspace, it turned northwest. Toward Britain. Toward answers and whatever came next..

Chapter Text

The private jet soared high above the clouds, cutting through the sky as it fled the chaos left behind in Egypt.
It carried two unlikely teams. Archaeologists and elite soldiers now bound together by bullets, ancient secrets, and an uneasy alliance.
Inside, the cabin was quiet but tense.
Lara sat near the window, watching the world beyond the glass flash past.
The hum of the engines was the only constant now. Behind her, Ida tended to Jonah’s injuries while Sam dabbed at his brow with a cloth. Jonah tried to downplay the pain, but Lara could see it in his eyes.
She turned as Price approached, lowering himself into the seat across from her with a grunt. His eyes studied her, guarded but not hostile.
“Let’s talk,” Price said bluntly.
Lara sighed but nodded.
“What exactly did you steal from Mikhail Orlov?” Price asked.
Lara arched an eyebrow.
“I prefer the term recovered,” she said.
Price wasn’t impressed in the slightest.
“Those men back there weren’t local thugs; they were military trained, a kill squad. So what did you steal?” he asked, his voice firmer.
Lara exhaled slowly, weighing her options. She reached into her satchel and brushed past the shard, her fingers hesitating. Instead, she pulled out the jewel-encrusted burial chamber key.
“He stole it first,” she said. “From my father.”
Price turned it over in his hands, studying the detailed craftsmanship. Ancient and ornate
He handed it back to Lara.
“And what was in the tomb, what was Faheem after?” Price then asked as she slid the key back in her bag.
Lara’s expression tightened. Price was too smart. She didn’t trust easily, especially not military types.
But these weren’t just any soldiers. They’d saved her life and her friend's lives. Twice.
With a sigh, she reached back into her bag again and this time withdrew the shard.
It gleamed faintly under the cabin lights, unnaturally cool in the warm air.
“He was after this,” she said.
Price took it, eyes narrowing. The shard was dense and metallic, yet smooth like glass. As he turned it in his fingers, it shimmered faintly—an inner light pulsing beneath the surface.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Something my father spent most of his life searching for,” Lara replied.
Price just nodded; he could tell this was important to her.
“That convoy we spotted in the drone feed, were they Mikhail Orlov’s men?” he then asked.
“I don’t know,” she admitted truthfully.
Lara truly didn’t know. They could have been, or whoever Faheem’s buyers were.
Price could see that she was telling the truth.
The MI6 agent travelling with them then came up with some drinks and snacks, preventing any more questions.
Price took a water and made his way to his team.
He took an empty seat. They gave him an expectant look.
“So?” asked Ghost quietly.
“She’s hiding something, don’t know what yet,” said Price and the others nodded.
Sam and Jonah made their way down the plane to sit with Lara.
“That looked tense,” said Jonah quietly.
Lara just nodded in agreement.
“How's the face?” Lara asked him.
Jonah, now patched up, with his cuts cleaned, but his face still bruised, gave a little smirk.
“It will heal,” he assured.
Everyone relaxed as the jet flew on, but the two teams remained wary in each other’s presence.
A while later, as Sam walked down the aisle back from the bathroom, she looked nervously at Blitz, who lifted his head and gave her a curious look.
“Don’t worry, he’s friendly,” assured Jack.
“Just don’t get between him and his dinner,” joked Soap.
Sam blushed as Soap gave her a wink and a grin.
Jack pulled a dog treat from his vest and then handed it to Sam. She held it out tentatively.
Blitz took it gently, chomping it down.
“He’s a really big dog,” said Sam.
With her initial fear gone, she patted Blitz.
“That he is,” said Jack in agreement.
The jet continued to speed toward England, toward answers, and toward dangers none of them were yet ready to face.
They soon touched down smoothly on a quiet airstrip outside London. The tarmac shimmered under a cloudy sky, and a line of unmarked government vehicles waited near the edge of the runway.
Three figures stood by the cars: two suited officials, a man and a woman, and a tall officer in military uniform. Brigadier General Colin Stratton, commander of the SAS and Task Force 141.
As the jet rolled to a stop. The door was opened, and Lara, her friends, and Task Force 141 descended the stairs into the brisk English air.
“Welcome home,” the male official said, his voice flat and bureaucratic.
The welcome was far from warm.
“So we’ve managed to smooth things over in Cairo. Task Force 141, there is no record of you ever being there, so the Egyptian government does not know about your involvement, but Lady Croft, we strongly suggested you and your friends don’t return anytime soon,” said the woman official.
“Noted,” said Lara curtly as she crossed her arms.
Brigadier General Colin Stratton then took Price aside.
“Good to see you and the team made it safe back, John,” said the General.
“What’s going on, sir?” Price asked.
The older man just sighed.
“Not sure yet, but I’m afraid you're going to have to protect Lady Croft for a little while more,” replied the general.
“So we’re just supposed to babysit her and her friends?” asked Price with a growl.
“I don’t like it either, John, but after your last ‘mission’, you’re not exactly in good graces yet. I had to call in some favours just to get you the assignment in Egypt,” said the General
Price just frowned. The general sighed, looking at Lara, Jonah and Sam.
“John, you and the others will just have to see this through, guard Lady Croft and her friends for now, keep them out of trouble, prove you and your team can be trusted,” said the general.
Price nodded.
“Will do, sir,” he said.
Lara was having an equally tough conversation with the two officials.
“I don’t need armed bodyguards,” said Lara.
The two officials exchanged looks.
“I’m sorry, Lady Croft, but you clearly do. This isn’t up for debate. While we can’t arrest you. Mikhail Orlov has no official claim to the item in question. We also can’t detain you or legally force you to stay in the country. But make no mistake, our hands are tied, and you have no other options, " the male official said evenly.
Lara scowled at this. The woman stepped forward, her face softening to take a better approach.
“Mr Orlov is a very dangerous man, Lady Croft, has powerful friends and is very resourceful. Until he is dealt with, you’re in danger; this is for your protection,“ she said gently.
Lara just nodded; she knew when she was backed into a corner. She needed to get to Australia and to wherever the other shards were.
“Fine,” she said.
The officials nodded, glad they had convinced her.
“Well, it’s settled then,” said the male official.
With that, Lara, her friends and Task Force 141 then climbed into the waiting vehicles.
The convoy of vehicles moved off, leaving the airfield.
“So we’re bodyguards now?” asked Soap.
Price lit a cigar, exhaling slowly.
“We go where she goes, for now,” said Price.
The convoy rolled steadily out of London, engines humming beneath the English sky. A light drizzle had turned the streets slick and reflective, casting ghostly reflections of rooftops and streetlights across the wet pavement.
The city slowly gave way to the countryside, buildings thinning into rolling fields and wooded hills.
The terrain grew greener as they passed through the narrow country lanes, with high hedgerows on either side.
Lara smiled as the convoy drove up the winding path flanked by old stone walls and tall oak trees that led to her family estate.
As the convoy rounded the bend, the iron gates of Croft Manor came into view.
They stood tall and closed, but as if sensing her return, they creaked open automatically.
The manor revealed itself slowly beyond the trees: a grand, ivy-clad mansion set against the rising mist of the Surrey hills.
Lara sat up straighter as they pulled into the long gravel driveway. For the first time since Egypt, she let herself breathe.
The convoy slowed as the grand silhouette of Croft Manor came into view, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. The estate loomed with elegant authority. Ivy-covered stone walls, towering windows, and wrought-iron gates guarding centuries of secrets.
The vehicles rolled to a halt at the circular drive before the wide front steps. One by one, Task Force 141 and Lara’s group stepped out, stretching their legs and scanning their surroundings.
An elderly man in a sharp waistcoat came out to greet them, hands calmly folded.
“Welcome home, milady,” said Winston, voice proper but warm.
“Hello, Winston,” Lara said, smiling as she climbed the steps. “It’s good to be back.
“Mr Maiava, Miss Nishimura, welcome back, too,” said Winston
“Hi Winston,” said Jonah and Sam in unison.
“Was your trip successful, millady?” Winston asked.
“It was, somewhat, “ Lara answered.
Winston knew when not to pry. He turned to Task Force 141, giving them a warm smile.
“Welcome to Croft Manor,” he said.
“These are SAS operatives, Winston. They’ll be staying here for the time being,” Lara explained.
“Very good, milady. I’ll see that rooms are prepared immediately,” said Winston
As the team unloaded their gear, Blitz sniffed the air curiously, tail twitching. Gaz gave a low whistle, taking in the manor’s grandeur.
“Bloody Downton Abbey,” he muttered.
“Pretty impressive, right?” Jonah said with a grin as he stood beside him.
Ghost just shrugged.
“We’ve stayed in fancy houses before,” he said nonplussed.
Jonah just blinked as Ghost picked up a bag and headed inside.
“He’s not exactly bright and cheerful, huh?” he asked.
“Oh, he’s a big teddy bear once he warms up to you,” Ida said deadpan as she passed.
Jack, Price and Soap exchanged smirks.
“Don’t tell him we said that,” Jack murmured.
With gear unloaded and vehicles gone, they all headed inside.
The manor’s interior was even more impressive. Polished wood floors, towering bookcases, ancestral portraits, and artefacts displayed behind glass.
Lara led them on a brisk tour. Study, library, tactical-ready war room, and finally, the lush gardens. The high perimeter walls were fitted with discreet high-tech surveillance.
“Security’s not just for show,” she noted, pausing at a reinforced door leading to a basement vault.
“Good. We’ll need it,” said Price, already taking mental notes of entry points and blind spots.
Dinner was served in the dining room. Quiet, proper, but laced with tired conversation. By the time dessert was cleared away, everyone dispersed to their rooms.
As the house dimmed for the night, Price organised rotating watches, and the sound of boots on gravel echoed faintly as Task Force 141 did what they did best: stay sharp.
The next morning, early light spilt into the kitchen as Lara sat quietly sipping tea at the head of the table. Soon her guests filtered in, grabbing breakfast and coffee.
Blitz stretched and sat near the Aga stove.
Today, Lara would need to tell them everything. Convince them to follow her into the unknown. If she could earn their trust, truly earn it, then this mission might just stand a chance.
When breakfast had been eaten, they all gathered in Lara’s father’s study.
It was a warm room lined with dusty tomes, display cases, and faded expedition photographs.
Lara stood by the central table, her hands resting on an aged leather-bound journal. The team sat or stood nearby.
On the table lay the strange shard recovered in Egypt, alongside the key Lara had taken from Orlov.
Task Force 141, around the room waited, like soldiers ready for the next mission briefing.
Lara took a breath.
“My father spent most of his life chasing what others dismissed as legend. Ancient myths, lost civilisations, unexplained artefacts. Most of it was academic… until he found something real,”
She opened the journal to a marked page, revealing a sketched diagram of the shard, matched with ancient symbols, planetary alignments, and coordinates scrawled in the margins.
“This,” said Lara as she tapped the shard.
“Is part of something far older than Egypt, or any known civilisation. My father believed it, and more like it are a key to something, a source of power, not of this world.”
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“You mean alien?” he asked.
Lara gave a small nod.
“Or something close. He called it ‘ the Ascendant Key’, remnants of a forgotten era, or a visitation,” she said.
“Bloody hell,” Ghost scoffed quietly.
Price didn’t react.
“And now others want them. Orlov. Whoever Faheem’s buyers are, whoever sent that kill squad,” he said.
Lara just nodded. She held up the shard. It shimmered faintly in the study light.
“They aren’t just metal. When joined, my father believed they would form a key that would lead to something that could change humanity forever,” she explained.
A beat of silence. Lara let it sink in.
They all had curious and puzzled looks. Only Blitz wasn’t bothered, who just lay happily on the thick rug.
Jack leaned in.
“And the next shard? Do you know where it is?” he asked.
Lara opened the secure wall safe and pulled out a weathered map marked with her father’s notes.
“I may have a lead. My father believed it is deep in the Australian Outback, sacred ground, not accessible to outsiders,” she explained.
Jack studied the map on the polished wood table. Several red-inked markings dotted the vast sprawl of the Australian Outback, each representing a potential site. Scattered around the map were hand-painted reproductions—ancient cave symbols, drawn by Lara’s father and clearly inspired by Indigenous artwork.
“I’ve seen some of these around growing up, but nothing I can place for certain. My mother might know someone who could help. I’ll give her a call,” he said.
Lara blinked. She hadn’t expected Task Force 141 to jump in so quickly.
“I’ll want to leave as soon as possible; whoever else is after the shards isn’t going to wait around,” she announced.
Price frowned at this. He didn’t think she wanted to head off so quickly after her brush with danger. Task Force 141 could better protect her here, but they couldn’t just detain Lara in her house.
“You barely got out of Cairo alive. You sure you want to head straight into the next fire?” he asked her.
“We don’t have the luxury of time, Captain,” Lara said, voice firm. “And neither do you, if you’re serious about protecting me.”
Price exchanged a glance with the team, then exhaled.
“Alright. We’re in,” he said.
Lara offered a rare smile.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said gratefully.
They all got busy, preparing for the trip.
Lara led Jack down a hallway to a smaller, more modern comms room. She gestured toward the encrypted phone.
“You can use this,” she said, stepping aside.
Jack dialled. After a moment, a familiar voice answered.
“Jack, where are you?, I thought you were on a mission?” she asked
Jack explained the situation. Carefully, though, without revealing too much.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.
“Thanks, mum,” said Jack.
“Do you want to talk to her? She’s here,” Jack’s mum asked.
Jack waited a moment, then a different voice came on.
“Hey,” said his fiancée, Anna Fischer.
Jack couldn’t help but smile at the sound of her voice.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said.
“Where are you?” Anna asked.
“Back in England, but we’re coming to Australia,” he said.
“You’re coming here?” she asked, delighted surprise in her voice.
“Yeah, I’ll see you soon,” he promised.
Lara then came back into the room, needing to make some calls too. Jack said a quick, reluctant goodbye to Anna and hung up.
“We should be good to go,” he assured Lara.
An hour later, Jack got a message from his mother. She had organised a meeting with an Aboriginal tribal liaison when they arrived.
Jack relayed this information to Lara.
Lara was quite surprised again at the efficiency. Now she had one less problem.
“I’m still having trouble securing a plane; it’s not like we can fly commercial,” she said.
Price looked thoughtful. The government wouldn’t give them a plane, but there might be someone else who could.
He pulled out his phone and made the call.
Price’s conversation was quick, and he returned with a grin on his face.
“We have a plane,” he said.
“What, really?” Lara asked with surprise.
“Yes, he said to give him a few hours, but yes, we have a plane,” Price promised.
There was no time to waste.
Lara, Jonah and Sam quickly packed up some clothes and gear.
Lara arranged some transport. When the vehicles arrived and were loaded, the convoy was driven to a nearby private airfield.
A sleek private jet waited for them on the tarmac. Standing beside it in a tailored suit was Lord Alaric Reeve II. The well-connected Lord’s family had a long history with Task Force 141.
“Hello, everyone,” he said as they stepped from the vehicles.
“Hello, Alaric,” said Ida with a smile.
Reeve shook hands with Ida and the boys, then turned to Lara.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Croft. I’m Lord Alaric Reeve,” said Reeve.
“Lord Reeve,” said Lara, shaking his hand, but eyeing him curiously.
“We’ve never met, but your father and my grandfather were acquainted,” said Reeve.
He retrieved a small photo from his jacket pocket.
Lara's breath caught in her chest as she saw her father in his youth, standing next to another man at an archaeological dig somewhere.
“My grandfather funded some of his first digs,” said Reeve.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes misting.
“Keep it,” said Reeve.
Lara smiled her thanks and slipped the photo carefully away.
Reeve then gestured to his plane.
“She is fast and very comfy, better than suffering through a commercial flight or military cargo plane,” said Reeve with a smile.
Jack and Soap both grinned at this.
“I have also arranged vehicles for you once you’ve reached Sydney,” said Reeve.
“Oh, that’s not necessary, we can handle our own transport,” said Lara.
Reeve’s smile flickered, and his eyes hardened for a moment.
“It’s not just for you, Lady Croft,” said Reeve, steel in his voice.
Lara was taken aback by this as it felt like the older man was staring through her. She knew this man was not to be messed with.
They all picked up their weapons and gear to begin walking to the jet.
With their gear and bags stowed in the jet, they all began to board.
Lara, Jonah, and Sam boarded first. As Gaz followed, Reeve stopped the rest.
“Watch yourselves, I heard about what happened in Egypt, Croft has stirred up something, someone out there is very interested in her,” he warned, his voice low.
“Someone, who? Mikhail Orlov?” Price asked.
“Yes he is part of it, I’ll have my people keep checking, but in the meantime, stay safe and vigilant,” said Reeve.
Reeve shook hands with them all, then they boarded the plane.
Everyone took seats in the very luxurious and comfy cabin. Lara and Price exchanged quick looks as he sat down.
Trust hadn’t come yet, both teams still had secrets, but it was forming.
Everyone settled in for the flight, all wondering what was to come.
The next stop was Australia. Where another shard awaited and those who also sort it too, ready to strike…

Chapter Text

The sprawling city of Sydney shimmered beneath, its skyline catching the midday light as the sleek private jet began its descent. The endless sprawl of buildings, glittering harbour, and blue ocean framed the scene below like a postcard.
Jack looked out the window, watching familiar streets blur past beneath the wings.
“When’s the last time you were back?” Price asked, glancing across the aisle.
Jack gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Couple of years now. Feels longer,” he answered.
The jet touched down smoothly on a private airstrip reserved for foreign dignitaries and government officials.
It taxied toward a small, discreet terminal tucked away from the bustle of the main airport.
Waiting outside were two women. One, elegant and poised in a tailored suit, was Dr. Evelyn Wyatt. Jack’s mother. Though small in stature, she carried herself with the calm command of a seasoned diplomat.
Beside her stood Anna Fischer, Jack’s fiancée. Petite, blonde, beautiful and radiant with excitement.
The team disembarked, stepping down the stairway with weapons cases, gear and bags. The air was brisk, being winter. Everyone adjusted their jackets and clothes.
Blitz let out a sharp whine. His tail began to wag furiously.
Jack just smirked.
“Well, go on then,” he said with a chuckle.
With a bark, Blitz bounded across the tarmac like a missile.
Anna laughed and dropped to her knees just in time for the shepherd to greet her with a flurry of excited licks and tail wags.
“Hey there, handsome boy! Did you miss me?” she cooed, letting him nuzzle into her arms.
The rest of the group followed at a brisk pace.
“Welcome to Sydney,” said Evelyn, smiling warmly as they all approached.
Jack stepped forward and embraced his mother tightly.
“Hey Mum,” he said with a grin
“You look thinner. Have you been eating properly?” she teased.
“I eat fine,” Jack muttered, still grinning.
Anna stood and was immediately swept into a hug that lifted her off her feet.
“There’s my girl,” Jack murmured.
“Hi, handsome,” she replied, planting a kiss on his cheek as he set her down.
“Hi, everyone,” Anna said, turning to the rest of the group with a beaming smile.
Price, Soap, and Ghost gave her smiles back, and Ida hugged her.
“Dr Wyatt,” said Price to Jack's mother as he and the rest of Task Force 141 gave her respectful looks.
If it wasn’t for her, they might be all still in that research facility in Scotland.
“Oh no, Evelyn, please, you all kept my son alive, that makes us family,” she insisted.
Price just grinned and nodded.
“This is Sergeant Garrick,” he said, introducing Gaz.
“Gaz, Ma’am,” as he shook Evelyn's hand.
“A pleasure, Gaz, and none of that ma’am business either,” she said with a smile.
“Mum,” said Jack, seeing Lara, Jonah and Sam still waiting patiently.
Evelyn smiled warmly at them.
“Lady Croft, welcome to Australia,” she said.
“Thank you, these are my friends, Jonah and Sam,” said Lara.
“Very nice to meet you all,” said Evelyn as she shook their hands.
Anna was then introduced. Lara, Sam and Jonah gave her friendly handshakes. Sam’s eyes lit up when she saw the ring on Anna’s finger, the ring Jack had put on her the week before.
“Oh, it’s beautiful, when’s the wedding?” Sam asked.
Anna blushed as she looked at Jack.
“We haven’t set a date yet,” she replied.
“Well, congrats anyway,” said Sam with a huge smile.
Evelyn led the group into the terminal, walking briskly with purpose. As they moved, she turned her sharp gaze to Ghost.
“Lieutenant, please tell me you’re not planning to wear that dreadful mask while you’re here,” she said dryly.
Ghost, donning only a pair of large, wraparound sunglasses, offered a crooked smile.
“Only when absolutely necessary, ma’am,” he replied, his voice cool and composed.
Inside the sleek terminal, a tall man in an Australian military uniform stood waiting, flanked by two customs officers. His bearing was unmistakable. He was Major General Callum Rourke, commander of the Australian SAS and Jack’s former CO.
Jack snapped to attention, his team mirroring him.
“General,” he greeted with a firm salute.
“At ease,” Rourke said with a grin.
He shook Jack’s hand.
“Good to see you again, Wyatt,” said the general.
Jack turned and gestured to his teammates.
“Sir, this is Captain Price, Lieutenant Reilly, Lieutenant Hoffman, Sergeants MacTavish and Garrick.”
“Welcome to Australia,” Rourke said.
He shook hands with each of them, too, then he gave them all a stern look.
“Now you’ve stirred up quite the storm overseas. Let’s try to keep things quiet while you’re here,” he then said, his voice firm.
“We’ll try to, sir,” Price promised.
Two customs agents looked over and stamped Lara, Sam and Jonah’s passports. They turned to look at the others, but Rourke shook his head and waved the agents off.
“They were never here, understood?” said Rourke.
The customs officials nodded and walked off.
Outside, a sleek motorcade waited. Matte-black SUVs with tinted windows and subtle armour. As they loaded their bags and gear, Blitz gave a happy bark and began sniffing around excitedly.
“I swear, that dog’s grown,” Evelyn said with a smirk.
Ida and Soap rode with Jack, Anna, Evelyn and Rourke, while Price, Ghost and Gaz rode with Lara, Jonah and Sam.
Ida and Anna began talking excitedly in German as the motorcade set off, discussing what Anna had been up to since the last time they had seen each other.
Jack heard his name and looked back.
“You know I can hear and understand you, right?” he said.
The two of them just grinned. The women switched to French.
Evelyn just chuckled at her son.
“Still having trouble with your French, dear?” she asked teasingly.
“Haha, yes,” he said with a groan, and Evelyn just laughed again.
In the second vehicle, Lara stared out the window, the urban sprawl of Sydney flashing by. Glass towers reflected golden sunlight, and the harbour sparkled in the distance.
“You think Dr. Wyatt can deliver?” she asked quietly.
“She hasn’t let us down yet,” Price replied with confidence.
The convoy soon arrived at a modern high-rise near The Rocks.
Men in dark suits and earpieces greeted them at the curb, their holstered sidearms barely concealed beneath tailored jackets. With practised efficiency, they unloaded gear and ushered the team inside.
The building's interior was minimalist and pristine. Behind the reception desk, carefully secured racks displayed assault rifles and compact SMGs.
“You’ll be safe here, Lady Croft,” Rourke assured, pressing the elevator button.
Lara didn’t think all the security was really necessary, but after Egypt, everyone would probably disagree with her.
The elevator opened into the penthouse. It was a luxurious suite of polished wood, marble floors, and expansive windows overlooking the harbour.
The group spread out, claiming rooms and reconvening in the open-plan living area.
“I’ve arranged a meeting with the Aboriginal liaison; he should be here shortly,” Evelyn announced, checking her watch.
As the team settled in, Rourke motioned for Price to join him in a private office off the hall.
“Stratton briefed me, at least, what he was willing to share,” Rourke said once they were alone. “I don’t love trouble following you into my country, but if you need support, you’ll have it.”
“Appreciate that, sir,” Price replied.
“Is it really true? About your last mission, the one in Germany?” the General then asked.
Price hesitated to answer for a moment.
“What have you heard, sir?” he asked cautiously.
“Not much, I can hardly believe any of it,” Rourke replied.
“It’s probably better that way, sir,” said Price.
Rourke raised an eyebrow, but nodded. He understood when things were to be left alone.
With that, the general made his exit, leaving the team to prepare for the meeting ahead.
While Lara, Jonah, Evelyn, Price, and Ghost remained behind in the penthouse, the others took the opportunity to get some fresh air and check out the city.
When they had left, Lara stood at a wide dining table, carefully unrolling the aged map across its surface.
Faint notes in her father’s handwriting adorned the corners, and several hand-painted sketches of strange cave markings were tucked into a leather folio beside it.
Price stood by the window, arms folded, watchful as always. Ghost lounged nearby, quiet and still, his sunglasses reflecting the soft light. They were out of their element in a luxury apartment, but they made it work.
There was a knock at the door, and Evelyn opened it.
In the hallway, escorted by one of the suited guards, was a tall, weathered, and calm-eyed man. He was middle-aged and walked with the weight of his people’s stories in his stride.
“Gavin, come in,” said Evelyn.
“Nice to see you again, Dr Wyatt,” he said.
“Everyone, this is Gavin Munarra, Gavin, this is Lady Lara Croft and Jonah, the other men are her protection,” said Evelyn.
He nodded respectfully to Lara and then at Price and Ghost before joining Lara at the table.
“I understand you wish to find something on one of my people’s lands?” he said, voice deep and even.
“I’m trying to find answers,” Lara replied, gesturing to the map. “I don’t know where to start, but I believe what I’m searching for is at these locations.”
Munarra stepped closer, his eyes scanning the map, then the accompanying sketches. He traced one of the cave drawings with a calloused finger.
He looked deep in thought for a moment, then tapped one of the drawings.
“This one, I’ve seen this before, my grandfather called it the Eye of Wariuka. A symbol found deep in Warrangka Gorge, where outsiders rarely go,” he said.
Lara leaned in.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A warning,” he said simply. “That what fell from the sky still breathes beneath the earth. That certain doors are not meant to be opened.”
“I need to know where the gorge is,” Lara insisted.
“Just because you have the tools to dig doesn't mean you should,” Munarra said evenly.
Lara nodded, she had heard this from many different tribal leaders before.
“I’m not here to steal or destroy. I’m here to understand. To protect it before others come with worse intentions,” she said gently.
Munarra studied her for a long moment.
“You believe that. I hope it’s enough.”
He turned the map slightly, pointing to one of the circles Lara’s father had made.
“The gorge is here, but you’ll need permission to enter that territory. It’s sacred ground,” he said.
“Can you get it?” asked Lara.
“I’ll arrange it with the tribal leader there,” he promised.
Lara thanked Munarra, and Evelyn escorted him out.
Lara exhaled slowly and looked at Price, Jonah and Ghost.
“Well… looks like we have a direction,” she said.
Price nodded.
“Better than wandering blind in the outback,” he mused.
Lara couldn’t agree more.
Out on the vibrant streets of Sydney, the sun cast a golden glow across the buildings as the group made their way through the bustling crowd.
Jack held Anna’s hand firmly in his, weaving through the throng of pedestrians with practised ease. In his other hand, he held Blitz’s leash. The big shepherd trotted beside him, tail wagging and ears perked as he took in the new sights and smells of the city.
“Hope Mum wasn’t too much for you,” Jack said to Anna with a crooked grin.
Anna smiled up at him.
“She was perfect, Jack. Honestly, I think I like her already,” she assured.
Very few people knew Anna’s history. Jack was worried Anna might have been overwhelmed with his mother, but it seemed like she was coping and adapting just fine.
“Are we hungry?” Jack then asked the group.
They had eaten on the plane, Lord Reeve’s flight staff had provided them excellent meals on the flight.
“Nah, maybe a pint?” said Soap.
“Yeah, a beer sounds good,” said Ida.
They found a nearby pub called The Heritage, an old sandstone corner bar with outdoor tables and an inviting atmosphere. A chalkboard out front advertised local craft beers, and thankfully, a sign in the window read: Dogs Welcome.
Inside, the place was warm and buzzing with chatter. Patrons huddled around tables and the bar.
They snagged a table near the window. Jack looped Blitz’s leash to the leg of his chair, where the dog settled down with a satisfied huff. Gaz and Ida got the first round.
“So, how was Egypt?” Anna asked.
Jack told her everything. Anna’s face filled with worry.
“I’m glad you made it out safe,” she said to them.
Ida and Gaz came back with their drinks. They sat, talking as they sipped their drinks.
“So you’re German like Ida?” Sam asked Anna.
“I am,” said Anna.
“Ahh ich bin Sam,” said Sam, her German clumsy but earnest.
Anna and Ida just smiled.
“No bad,” said Anna.
They finished off a second round of drinks and then headed back to the apartment.
The penthouse was quiet as twilight settled over Sydney, the city’s lights flickering to life below. Everyone relaxed in the luxurious space before deciding to get some dinner.
They chose a highly-rated restaurant just a few blocks away, within walking distance. The place was upscale yet cosy, with an open terrace, soft lighting, and best of all, it welcomed dogs.
As they strolled through the streets, Lara couldn’t help but notice the subtle bulges of pistols beneath jackets and the alert eyes. Even on a quiet street, they were scanning for threats. Old habits die hard.
Inside the restaurant, Blitz was an instant celebrity. The waitstaff fawned over him, bringing water and treats before menus. He soaked it all up like a seasoned VIP.
They were led to a large table near the window, where laughter and conversation began to flow freely. Lara and Price exchanged a subtle glance, both noting the change. The gap between Task Force 141 and her group had begun to close. The walls were coming down, replaced by mutual respect.
Dinner passed with warmth and wine. Jokes from Soap and Jonah, quiet smiles from Gaz, Jack’s hand resting on Anna’s, which got proud looks from Evelyn.
Afterwards, they strolled back under the city lights. A breeze came in from the harbour, the streets still alive with nightlife.
At the penthouse, people began peeling off to their rooms. Anna took Jack’s hand, her eyes glittering mischievously. With a soft laugh, he let himself be pulled away without protest.
In the morning, the penthouse buzzed with fresh energy. Everyone was gathered over a hearty breakfast when the news came through: a RAAF cargo plane was making a supply run to the Northern Territory and could make a stop in Alice Springs. Rourke had made it happen.
They packed quickly and assembled in the lobby.
As they stepped outside, three light-colored lastest model Land Rovers pulled up, kitted out with bull bars, roll cages, roof racks, and knobby off-road tires. Vehicles built for rugged terrain.
A man stepped from the lead vehicle, wearing civilian attire but with the unmistakable bearing of a professional.
“Good morning. Courtesy of Lord Reeve,” he said with a polite nod.
He led Price to the rear of one of the vehicles.
The man opened locked compartments, revealing secured cases filled with gear. One held a neat line of grenades—frag, flashbang, smoke, and anti-personnel mines. Another carried boxes of ammunition for rifles, pistols, and shotguns.
“Lord Reeve wasn’t sure what you'd run into out there, so he wanted you well equipped”
Price raised an eyebrow, then let out a small grunt of approval.
The man handed over the keys and departed with the other drivers. Just as the engines faded down the street, another vehicle pulled up. Munarra stepped out, holding a modest overnight bag.
“I’ve secured access permission, but I am required to accompany you,” he said.
Lara gave him a respectful nod.
“Of course. You’re more than welcome,” she said.
Nearby, Evelyn turned to her son, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze.
“I’ve got meetings today, then I’m heading back to Canberra in the morning,” she said. “Make sure I see you before you leave.”
“I will,” Jack promised.
They embraced briefly, then Evelyn climbed into the same car Munarra had arrived in.
As it pulled away, the team loaded up into the Land Rovers—gear packed, weapons checked, Blitz settled in the back with his tail wagging.
On the drive to Richmond Air Force Base, the convoy made a detour, pulling into the lot of a sprawling suburban shopping centre. A quick stop for supplies.
While Price and Ghost lingered by the Rovers, running vehicle checks and topping off fuel, the others split into teams and disappeared into the bustling mall.
As Anna, Ida, and Jack walked the aisles of the supermarket, Anna looked around with amazement.
“Everything is so colourful and there is so much choice,” she said with almost disbelief.
Jack and Ida exchanged grins.
“Yeah, a bit different from 1944, huh?” said Jack.
Anna just nodded and picked up a can of drink.
“Monster energy drink?” she asked with confusion.
“Yeah, the stuff is nasty,” said Ida.
When they had gathered what food and supplies they needed, they headed to the checkouts.
Anna watched Jack pay, and she was still amazed that the little plastic cards everyone carried could pay for almost anything.
They regrouped with Lara and the others, coming out of a camping store. Jonah was pushing a large trolley filled with equipment. Jack nodded at Gaz and Soap.
“We got tents, sleeping bags, everything we need,” said Jonah with a grin.
They returned to the car park, where everything was quickly packed away. The Rovers were even equipped with small electric/battery fridges for the food.
Once everyone was accounted for, the convoy rolled back onto the road. The city began to thin as they neared Richmond Air Force Base.
At the gates, armed personnel in high-vis vests and fatigues stepped forward. Price leaned out the window, presenting paperwork and orders. One of the guards made a call from inside the booth. His eyes widened when he got the go-ahead.
“You’re clear. Drive straight through,” he said.
On the tarmac, a hulking RAAF C-130 Hercules waited with its rear ramp yawning open. Ground crew bustled around it, prepping for departure. The Rovers were quickly driven aboard and secured with heavy chains.
Inside the cavernous cargo bay, the group found canvas seating along the walls. It was a far cry from the luxury of Lord Reeve’s private jet.
As the engines roared to life and the aircraft began to taxi, Jack noticed Anna gripping the edge of her seat.
“Still not a fan of flying?” he asked over the noise.
Anna gave him a tight-lipped smile.
“No, not yet,” she admitted.
Jack squeezed her hand.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get there OK,” he assured.
The flight was long, loud, and distinctly uncomfortable. Everyone dozed in shifts, the engines a constant roar around them.
Eventually, the plane descended into the hazy red expanse of the Northern Territory. They touched down on the dusty Alice Springs runway.
With practised efficiency, the Land Rovers were unloaded, tires hitting the dirt with satisfying crunches. Heat shimmered on the horizon. The desert awaited.
As they regrouped, Lara shaded her eyes, scanning the rugged terrain.
“The shard’s out there,” she said quietly.
Price nodded beside her.
“Then we better find it, before someone else does,” he growled.
The convoy rumbled to life and rolled out into the sun-baked, unforgiving wilderness...

Chapter Text

The endless red heart of Australia stretched out before them, shimmering under the sun. Dust plumed behind the convoy as the Land Rovers rolled west from the Alice Springs airfield, leaving the scattered buildings of the town far behind.
Lara stared out the window, her eyes scanning the ancient landscape. Rugged, remote, and filled with secrets. She hoped Munarra was right about the shard’s location. If they were lucky, they’d reach it before anyone else did.
But who was Faheem really working for?. Whoever wanted the shards was powerful, well-connected, and ruthless.
Up front, Jonah focused on the dusty highway, following the lead Land Rover. Beside him, Soap scanned the terrain with practised eyes, his SMG resting across his lap. He hadn’t said much since they left the airfield, his gaze constantly shifting for signs of danger.
In the backseat, Sam, next to Lara, adjusted the lens on her video camera.
“So, Lara,” she said, sliding into her best documentary tone, “do you think this next shard is really hidden in the gorge?”
Lara smirked and turned toward the camera.
“I certainly hope so,” she answered.
“Your dad would’ve been proud of you, you know,” said Jonah with a chuckle.
Sam panned the camera toward Soap.
“Sergeant MacTavish, are you enjoying the treasure-hunting adventure so far?” she asked.
Soap blinked at the camera, unsure how to respond.
“Uh…”
“She’ll just keep asking,” Jonah warned with a grin, and Soap sighed.
“Aye. Sure. Beats getting shot at every other day,” he answered.
“Too late,” Sam said, recording with a playful smile.
Meanwhile, in the trailing vehicle, Anna sat beside Jack, her gaze fixed on the wild terrain. Her expression flickered between wonder and disbelief.
“It’s so… harsh,” she whispered, “but beautiful. Like it’s been untouched for thousands of years.”
“Pretty much has,” said Jack with a smile.
In the backseat, Ida ruffled Blitz’s ears as the dog watched the brush with intense curiosity. His tail thumped lazily against the seat.
Suddenly, Anna leaned forward.
“Oh! Look!” she exclaimed.
A mob of kangaroos had emerged from the scrub, bounding alongside the road in graceful, powerful arcs.
Jack watched carefully in case one decided to dart across in front of them.
Blitz let out an excited bark, pawing at the window. Everyone laughed.
“No chasing, buddy, be cool,” Ida said, giving him another scratch.
Blitz whined, pressing his nose to the glass as the kangaroos vanished into the distance.
“Music?” Jack asked.
“Sure,” said Anna, watching as he tapped at the screen built into the dash.
Anna had eighty years of music to catch up on, so Jack and Ida had been slowly introducing her to new artists and genres.
“So, what era are we up to now?” Jack asked.
“How bout the sixties?, rock and roll, The Beatles, Hendrix, Beach Boys?” Ida suggested.
Jack looked at Anna, and she just nodded. She was excited to hear any new music.
Jack grinned and queued up a playlist. The gentle melody of Yesterday by the Beatles filled the cabin, nostalgic and haunting. Anna leaned back and listened, a soft smile on her lips. She liked the song already.
“Good choice,” Ida said.
As the music played, the convoy pressed westward. Toward the gorge, toward the shard, and toward whatever else waited for them in the red dust and shadows.
They soon turned off the highway, the tyres of the convoy crunching over gravel as they followed a dusty private road cutting deep into the bush.
A locked gate came into view, adorned with weathered signs that read: PRIVATE PROPERTY – NO ENTRY and TRADITIONAL LAND – TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED.
Munarra stepped down from the lead vehicle, retrieved a key from his pocket, and unlocked the gate without a word. It creaked open slowly. The convoy rumbled forward when Munarra had locked the gate behind them.
A few minutes later, a 4WD appeared in the distance, heading toward them. As it neared, the vehicle angled sideways, deliberately blocking the road.
The Land Rovers came to a sudden stop.
From the front seat, Price’s hand instinctively went to his pistol. Ghost mirrored him, eyes narrowing under his sunglasses.
Munarra raised a hand calmly.
“They’re family,” he assured.
Price relaxed slightly but kept his hand on his sidearm.
“Stand down. Friendlies,” he radioed to the others behind them.
The driver’s door of the 4WD opened, and an older Aboriginal man stepped out. His weathered face broke into a warm smile as Munarra got out of the Rover.
“Gavin,” the man greeted.
“Uncle,” Munarra replied, embracing him tightly.
The two spoke rapidly in their language, a melodic exchange filled with familiarity. Other men climbed out of the 4WD, curious eyes scanning the visitors. A few peered into the Land Rovers, alert but not hostile.
One by one, everyone disembarked. The desert heat met them like a wall, dry and steady.
“These are my friends,” Munarra said, gesturing. He gave each name respectfully, and they shook hands with nods and quiet greetings.
“And this,” Munarra said with a proud smile, “is Dr. Evelyn Wyatt’s son, Jack.”
The men turned to Jack with surprise, sharing a few rapid-fire comments in their language. Jack raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“They’re wondering how someone your size came from someone her size,” Munarra translated with a grin.
Anna giggled beside Jack as Price and Soap smirked.
Jack just shrugged.
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he said.
The oldest man, the tribal elder, then stepped forward and turned his gaze toward Lara. His presence was calm but commanding, his voice measured.
“What do you seek on our land?” he asked.
The tone wasn’t aggressive, just firm, steeped in tradition.
Lara took a respectful step forward.
“I seek nothing that belongs to your people, but something lies hidden here—something very old and very dangerous. Others will come looking for it. And they won’t ask for permission,” she explained evenly.
The elder exchanged glances with the others, then spoke in his native tongue. A few nodded, murmuring in agreement.
“You speak of the metal piece that glows?” the elder finally asked Lara.
Her breath caught slightly. She exchanged looks with the others. These people had seen the shard.
“Yes,” Lara replied. “You’ve seen it?”
The elder nodded slowly.
“Our stories speak of such things, fragments from the sky. They are not of this world, and they are not meant to be disturbed,” he warned.
“They’re being hunted. And if we don’t find them first, others with darker intentions will,” Lara calmly reasoned.
The elder considered her words, then looked to the red horizon.
“There is an old story that one day, the pieces would be brought together again. That their time would return. Perhaps… that time is now,” he said.
The group fell silent, the weight of the moment settling over them like dust on the desert wind.
“You may proceed,” said the elder.
With permission granted, they continued on.
The convoy rumbled on until the dirt road narrowed into rugged scrub and finally stopped at the base of a sweeping ridge of rocky hills. The sun, now low on the horizon, cast long, amber shadows across the ancient land.
“This is as far as we go by vehicle,” Munarra said as everyone climbed out. “We hike to the canyon at first light.”
Blitz leapt from the back with a joyful bark, tail wagging as he bounded across the terrain, nose to the ground, inspecting rocks and bushes with serious determination. The team wasted no time falling into rhythm.
Soap, Jonah, and Gaz began pitching tents while Ghost, Jack, and Ida spread out to check the perimeter. Anna and Sam handled dinner prep, fending off Blitz’s inquisitive snout, who wanted to personally inspect every package and bag.
Munarra laid out a map on the hood of one of the Rovers. Price and Lara joined him.
“The artefact you’re looking for is in a cave at the end of the gorge, here,” he said, pointing to the map.
Lara and Price exchanged a silent nod. It would be a long, tough walk. But they were used to that.
By the time the last tent was pitched, the sun had vanished, and the temperature dropped like a stone. Everyone rugged up and huddled by the campfire that Jonah had started.
As Anna, Jonah and Sam got dinner ready, the stars soon came out. With no towns or settlements nearby, the sky shone brightly, showing off the beauty of the cosmos.
Soon, juicy sausages were sizzling in a cast iron pan as Jonah stoked the fire, a pot of baked beans bubbled away and foil-wrapped potatoes baked in the coals.
“Smells good,” said Gaz.
“Nothing like a good campfire meal,” said Jonah with a smile.
Munarra had made some damper bread and gathered up some local native food: Witchetty grubs and some bush tomatoes. He began to cook them on the fire, too.
“This is what we call bush tucker,” he said with a grin.
Soon dinner was ready, and everyone began to eat hungrily.
Munarra offered the plate of grubs and the roasted tomatoes to everyone. They all tried the damper and tomatoes, but most politely refused the grubs. Jack, Lara and Jonah grabbed some though.
Anna’s eyes widened as Jack ate the roasted grub. He just gave her a wicked grin.
“I had to live on this for a week during survival training,” he said.
“So did I, didn’t mean I got a taste for them though,” said Soap with a shudder.
Anna grimaced as Jack ate another and wasn’t convinced at all to try one.
Munarra entertained them with stories of his people as they ate.
He told them of the Dreamtime, the Rainbow Serpent and the Emu in the Sky.
“You look at the stars for what shines. But we look for what hides in the dark between. The Emu shows us when to move, when to wait. Might be your paths are hidden there too,” he said as he pointed to the stars.
Sam and Anna looked up in wonder, eyes following his finger toward the sprawling shape of the dark emu silhouette between the Milky Way’s glow. The others remained stoic but nodded slightly.
“Thank you for sharing your people’s stories, Gavin,” said Lara warmly.
“My pleasure, Lady Croft, it’s always nice to have an attentive audience,” he said.
After dinner and as the fire burned low, Gaz and Soap took the first watch while the others settled in for the night.
Munarra frowned slightly as he saw the two checking over their rifles, pistols, tac vests and gear.
“It’s just a precaution,” Price assured him.
Anna snuggled into her sleeping bag next to Jack in their tent as Blitz curled up on a mat at their feet.
Everyone was soon asleep as Gaz and Soap kept silent watch.
Just before dawn, Price woke Jack for the last watch.
Anna mumbled something in her sleep but didn’t wake. Jack slipped from her, put on his vest and jacket, then picked up his rifle and headed out into the early morning.
Ida was already up, yawned and gave her watchmate a nod.
Jack stoked the fire coals to get it going again. Blitz whined and nudged him.
“Hungry boy?” Jack asked.
There were still some leftover cooked sausages in one of the coolers. He didn’t bother to heat it up and tossed it to Blitz. The dog snapped it up happily and flopped down by the fire, content.
Ida did a quick sweep of the perimeter, scanning the horizon with the brand-new binoculars that had both thermal and night vision.
A little while later, they heard the sound of a zipper. Anna stepped out from the tent, wrapping her jacket tighter around her.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
Anna just shrugged but smiled at him. She huddled by the fire to warm her hands.
“Wow, the stars are still so bright,” she whispered in awe.
“Yeah, pretty amazing, huh?” said Jack.
Lara was next to rise. She gave them a smile and a nod in a morning greeting, then made herself some coffee.
It seemed everyone was an early riser. Soon, everyone was up and about as the sun started to rise.
Breakfast was prepared. Bacon and eggs were sizzling in a pan, coffee was brewing, and toast was grilling over the fire.
When the food was finished off and the dishes cleared away, they got properly dressed and ready for the trek ahead.
Jack’s mum had ensured Anna had the right clothes. She stood in her cute little outfit and new hiking boots, like a true adventurer.
Task Force 141 checked over their gear and weapons. They made sure their vests were stocked with enough spare ammo, mags and grenades.
Ghost slipped on his mask and let out a satisfied sigh. He operated better with it on.
Munarra raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.
There were spare tactical vests in the rovers, but only Anna accepted one. When she had slipped it on, she gave Jack a look.
“Just like old times,” she said with a small smile.
Jack also handed her a Glock pistol in a holster. She put it on, but both hoped she wouldn't have to use it.
Jonah, Sam and Lara inspected their own gear. Ropes, climbing gear and axes, whatever they needed for the hike.
Lara slipped her pistols into their holsters, then unpacked her recurve bow. It was her pride and joy, a gift from her father.
She inspected it, testing the string before slinging it over her back.
"A bow?" Ghost asked with surprise.
“Lara is an expert; she's been training since she was a girl,” said Sam proudly.
This got Lara impressed looks in response. Lara's mind wandered as she fondly remembered the lessons with her father all those years ago.
Jack pulled a large medical bag from one of the Rovers. He and Anna began to check through it.
The medical kit was quite extensive; it even had various anti-venom kits.
“Reeve doesn’t mess around, does he?” Jack asked.
Anna slipped on the bag, ensuring it wasn’t too heavy.
When they were ready, they headed off.
Munarra knew the way, but Ghost and Soap took the lead. Blitz bounded ahead, scouting and sniffing for any danger.
The trail wound through low scrub, stony outcrops, and steep gullies. The air was dry, scented faintly with eucalyptus and dust. Blitz barked as kangaroos bounded in the distance. A pair of wedge-tailed eagles circled overhead, silhouetted against the blue sky.
It wasn’t too hot yet, but everyone stayed hydrated.
As they climbed a short ridge, the ground suddenly dipped away
There it was: Warrangka Gorge.
A great wound in the earth, ancient and untouched, with red cliffs that dropped steeply down into a narrow canyon choked with rocks, trees, and shadows.
“There it is,” said Munarra quietly. “No one goes down there unless they have to.”
Lara stepped up beside him, eyes wide with awe.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Looks like a good spot for an ambush,” muttered Soap, peering down through his scope.
“It’s been quiet for years,” Munarra assured.
They picked their way down a narrow trail carved into the rock. It was barely wide enough for one person at a time. Blitz went first, tail wagging, sure-footed on the uneven path. Anna followed close behind Jack, gripping his hand when the ledge got steep.
The sound of running water got louder as they descended.
Loose stones crunched underfoot. Lichen-covered walls rose on either side as they descended deeper, and the temperature dropped noticeably. Soon, they were walking between towering cliffs that blocked out most of the morning sun.
They reached the gorge floor. It was dense with gnarled trees and jagged boulders. It felt untouched, like something older than time still lingered in the shadows.
A fast-flowing stream cut through the gorge, the noise echoing up the walls.
“We go this way,” Munarra said, pointing toward a narrow path that led between two massive stone pillars.
Lara glanced at Price, then gave a short nod.
They moved into the heart of the gorge, the cliffs looming around them, the entrance to the cave now just ahead, dark, silent, and waiting.
They soon needed to cross over the stream. Flat stones had been carefully arranged as stepping stones, just wide enough for careful footing.
Blitz didn’t hesitate. The dog leapt gracefully from stone to stone, tail wagging proudly as he landed on the opposite bank. He turned and gave a short, triumphant bark, head cocked in a way that clearly said: What’s taking so long?.
“Show-off,” Jack muttered with a grin.
Blitz barked again in agreement.
Jack followed, stepping lightly over the stones with ease. Behind him, Gaz began to cross and paused halfway, turning to extend a hand toward Anna.
She looked at him with a grateful smile and accepted.
“Thank you, Gaz,” she said
“Careful, Sergeant,” Ghost warned dryly from the bank.
“Yeah, Huntsman might break that hand off if you hold on too long,” joked Soap with a smirk.
Anna rolled her eyes and gave Gaz a playful look.
“Ignore them,” she said.
Gaz just chuckled as he helped her across. The teasing didn’t bother him. It meant he was becoming one of them, one of the team.
One by one, the rest of the group crossed with care until they were all on the far side, joining Jack and Blitz.
They pressed on, the track beginning to narrow as red rock walls rose up on either side. Then the sound of rushing water grew louder.
Rounding a bend, they stopped at the sight of a shimmering waterfall cascading down a jagged cliff. Mist rose where the water struck the pool below, rainbows catching in the sunlight. It was a hidden paradise nestled deep in the gorge.
But Lara’s eyes weren’t on the water. They were on what lay behind it.
A shadowed cleft in the rock, partially obscured by the falling water. A cave.
“Looks like this is the place,” said Lara.
Munarra nodded in response.
Aboriginal ochre markings decorated the rock face. Spirals, handprints, and strange symbols.
“Some of these symbols are warnings,” Lara murmured.
“Which usually means traps,” said Jonah dryly.
“Traps?” asked Anna worriedly.
She and Sam had concerned looks. Lara gave them a reassuring smile.
“How bout you stay out here?” she suggested.
Ana and Sam weren’t going to argue.
“Good idea, Valkyrie, Huntsman, Gaz, stay and guard,” ordered Price.
Inside the cave, the air turned cool and dry, thick with the scent of dust and ancient stone. Their torch beams cut through the darkness, revealing a narrow passage that sloped down into shadow. The walls were covered in primitive carvings—etched warriors with spears, constellations dancing across the stone, and a tall, robed figure offering a glowing crystal toward the sky.
“Seems like the right place,” Jonah muttered, eyes scanning the walls.
They followed the passage until it ended abruptly in a pile of boulders, stacked deliberately.
“A dead end?” Soap asked, frowning.
Munarra simply smiled.
“To keep thieves away,” he explained.
Without hesitation, he, Ghost, and Jonah began removing the stones. Beneath, a narrow tunnel was revealed, barely wide enough for one person to crawl through.
Lara stepped forward, but Munarra held her back, pointing upward.
“Careful,” he warned.
Hidden just above the entry, crude but deadly traps waited. Sharpened spears and heavy stones, poised to fall at the slightest misstep.
“Charming,” Price muttered.
Only Lara and Munarra were lean enough to squeeze through. The others watched tensely as the two edged their way past the trap, careful not to brush the pressure stones embedded in the walls.
Beyond the trap, the tunnel opened into a hidden chamber.
Their torchlight revealed a natural dome, its ceiling glittering faintly with embedded minerals. In the centre stood a stone pedestal, ancient and imposing.
“Any more traps?” Lara whispered.
Munarra shook his head slowly.
“I don’t think so. The path was meant to scare, not kill,” he said.
Cautiously, Lara stepped forward. Dust clouded around her boots as she ascended the short steps. She brushed off the pedestal with her gloved hand.
There it was.
The shard, nestled in a precisely carved cradle. It pulsed faintly with an inner light.
Lara’s eyes widened.
“That’s it,” she whispered.
She gently lifted it, turning it in her fingers before slipping it into her bag.
Lara could now reunite it with the first shard, carefully locked away back at Croft Manor.
“One step closer,” she murmured.
The two retraced their path, carefully slipping back through the narrow gap.
“Did you get it?” Jonah asked, the tension in his voice obvious.
Lara simply smiled.
“We got it,” she assured.
With no reason to linger, they moved swiftly back through the winding cave and out into the harsh sunlight.
The others were waiting near the cave entrance. Lara gave them a triumphant look, letting them know she had the shard.
As they began the trek back, Blitz suddenly growled. He stood rigid, his hackles raised.
Everyone went still, and weapons snapped up instinctively. Lara’s hand flew to her holster.
“There,” Jack barked, pointing.
A glint flashed in the canyon wall. The unmistakable sparkle of sunlight on a sniper’s scope.
“Contact left!” yelled Price.
Jack grabbed Anna and dove for cover, dragging her behind a rock as a rifle round tore into the ground.
“Down!” Price shouted.
Soap pulled Sam out of the line of fire while Ghost, Price and Ida opened up toward the high ridge.
More figures began moving fast up the gorge. Armed and coming hard.
The calm was shattered as gunfire echoed through the gorge, bullets slicing the air.
A brutal firefight erupted around them, and the gorge, once a silent resting place of ancient secrets, became a battlefield…

Chapter Text

In the stillness of the gorge deep in the vast Australian outback, gunshots cracked like thunder.
Stone walls amplified the chaos as muzzle flashes flared from the ridgeline and ahead. It was a mix of wild fire of rifles and shogun blasts.
Dust and rock chips sprayed with every impact, forcing everyone into cover.
“Snipers high, hostiles front!” Price barked as he dropped to a knee and fired controlled bursts upward.
One or two shooters were dug in above, but most of the attackers came charging up the gorge ahead. A ragged mob in mismatched gear. Pump-action shotguns, battered AKs and hunting rifles. Nothing uniform, but every trigger was being yanked with lethal intent.
Task Force 141 answered with suppressive fire, forcing heads down. Jonah crouched low with Lara and Sam behind a slab of rock, keeping them shielded.
Anna was pressed against another boulder with Jack and Blitz. Her knuckles were white around her pistol grip, eyes wide but steady.
“Stay down,” Jack told her firmly.
Anna wasn’t going to argue and nodded. She gripped Blitz’s collar tightly as he growled and barked loudly. She ducked lower as more bullets struck above her and pressed herself into the rock, grimacing.
Munarra made a dash to shift cover but stumbled as a round punched into his arm. Ghost lunged, dragging him behind cover before snapping a tight burst, forcing the shooter to duck back.
From the corner of her eye, Lara spotted movement. A thug slipping out from behind a rock, shotgun aimed squarely at Price’s flank.
In one smooth motion, she slung her bow forward, nocked an arrow, and let fly. The arrow buried itself in the man’s chest, and he dropped dead to the dirt.
Price saw the man fall and nodded a quick thanks to Lara.
Up high, a sniper tried to shift position along the ridge. Ghost caught the glint of his scope and dropped him with a single, precise shot.
The second sniper, re-positioned as well, squeezed off a shot that chipped rock above Jack and Anna’s heads. Jack swore and pulled Anna from harm’s way.
Ida, now with her sniper rifle unslung, aimed and fired at the sniper. She got a hit and the man tumbled from the ridge in a ragdoll fall, his scream ending in a sickening thud.
With their high-ground friends gone, the enemy’s nerve began to falter. They weren’t trained soldiers, just hired muscle.
One of them jumped out, AK-47 in hand, but the rifle jammed on the first trigger pull. Cursing, he fumbled with the mag and dropped it. He froze as multiple weapons locked on him. He let the rifle clatter to the rocks and slowly raised his hands.
Advancing up, Jack grabbed the man while the rest of the 141 fired on the last hostiles.
Only four were left now, two were together behind a boulder, while two more were in cover further down.
“The rest of you drop your weapons and you walk away!” Price yelled.
“Yeah sure mate,” shouted one of them.
Price nodded at Ghost and Gaz, who both pulled flashbangs. They tossed them high, landing at the feet of the two together behind the boulder.
The flashbangs went off, and the men yelled out in pain. The two of them threw out their guns as they coughed and spluttered.
As they were thrown to the ground, one of the remaining hostiles tried to bolt down the gorge.
Blitz, with a command from Jack, was already on him, launching in a blur of fur and teeth. The man went down screaming until Jack hauled him upright, the dog still growling.
The last holdout crouched behind another boulder, gripping a heavy revolver. Ghost and Soap flanked him from opposite sides.
“Drop it,” Soap ordered, aiming his rifle.
The man scowled, looking at him, then at Ghost. He hesitated for a tense beat, then tossed the pistol. It skidded across the dirt, and the man’s hands went up.
Soap pulled him to his feet roughly as Ghost covered him.
“Easy mate,” snapped the man as Soap shoved him forward.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Soap, not threatened in the slightest.
Within moments, the survivors were lined up, hands zip-tied, relieved of any weapons they had on them.
Ghost, Soap, and Gaz spread out to ensure the area was secure and watch for any further threats, while Price, Ida, and Jack kept watch over the prisoners.
Jonah, Sam and Lara stood together, all a little overwhelmed by the firefight. Jonah was comforting Sam as she trembled.
Jack gave Anna a look, and she gave him a small smile in return that she was alright. Blitz was glued to her side, glaring at the men, daring them to try anything.
“Are there any more of you?” Price asked the men.
The men looked at one of them, the one who had been last to surrender. The man’s eyes flashed angrily.
“I know this one, his name is Mason Kurran, he’s a thief and a smuggler, he’s always after sacred artefacts to steal,” Munarra said with a scowl.
He then grimaced and clutched at his arm. Blood was pouring down his arm from his gunshot wound.
“Let me take a look,” said Anna.
She grabbed the med kit that she had hastily tossed aside when the shooting had begun. She began sorting through it, grabbing what she needed.
“So, are there any more of you?” asked Price.
“This is it,” said one of the men.
“Shut up, Mick,” said Kurran.
“Well, if you’re lying and you have more men waiting, you’ll be the first to go,” warned Price.
Kurran scowled, but the others paled.
“How did you know we would be here?” Price asked.
Kurran chuckled and threw Munarra a smirk.
“You should be more careful about your phone conversations,” he gloated.
Munarra's eyes widened as Anna began to tend to his wound.
“What?” Murran asked.
“I heard you were guiding someone to find something, something important, thought I’d get for myself,” he said.
“Who is your buyer? Orlov?” asked Price.
“Don’t know who that is, mate,” said Kurran, shrugging.
“Then who are you working for?” asked Lara.
“Whoever pays me the most, princess,” said Kurran with a smirk.
Price just scowled. They weren’t going to get any more out of him, not here anyway.
He pulled out a secure sat phone from his vest and dialled. He got in touch with General Rourke, who promised to send help.
“He good?” Price asked Anna, who was finishing up with Munarra’s wound.
His wound wasn't too serious. Anna had managed to patch him up expertly.
“He’ll be fine,” Anna assured.
“Good, we need to get out of here,” said Price.
With Kurran and his men closely watched, they began the trek out.
The gorge felt different on the way back. Quieter, but not safe.
The sound of gunfire had gone, replaced by the distant caw of crows circling somewhere above, their black shapes sliding between the ochre cliff faces.
Price took point, scanning the bends ahead with rifle ready. Ghost and Soap flanked the zip-tied prisoners, forcing them forward with short, clipped orders. Blitz prowled at their heels, head low, every so often letting out a rumbling growl that kept the men in line.
Jack walked beside Anna, keeping his eyes on both the track ahead and her. Lara, Sam and Jonah brought up the rear with Munarra, Ida and Gaz.
They soon reached the narrow stream crossing from earlier.
The prisoners were shoved across the stream first, their boots slipping on the wet stones. One nearly lost his footing until Soap hauled him upright by the back of his shirt.
“Careful,” Soap said with a pointed look. “Fall in and I’ll let you wash downstream.”
The rest of the team followed, Blitz leaping the gap in a single bound and trotting ahead as if to scout the path.
Price signalled for the column to move, and they began the climb toward the narrow trail that wound up the gorge wall. The slope was steep, and boots scraped on stone, dust spilling down the path with each step.
Jack kept close to Anna and Munarra, ready to catch either if they slipped. The elder’s wounded arm was bound now, but his face tightened every time he used it for balance. Anna stayed at his other side, one hand hovering near his back.
“Steady,” Jack murmured as they reached a particularly narrow section, nothing but a sheer drop to the rocks below.
“Not my first climb,” Munarra assured, though his voice was low with effort.
Above them, Ghost paused on the trail, scanning the rim with his rifle before waving them forward. Lara, Sam and Jonah brought up the rear with Gaz and Ida, Lara’s bow still slung over her shoulder, her eyes darting about.
Halfway up, a loose pebble rattled down from somewhere above. Every weapon came up instantly, but nothing moved on the ridge.
“Could be just an animal,” Gaz muttered.
“Or not,” Jack replied, eyes narrowing.
They soon crested the gorge rim. The open country beyond felt almost too exposed after the close walls of the canyon.
The camp lay in the distance, the Land Rovers still parked and untouched, but were now joined by an assortment of other vehicles.
No one relaxed until they had swept the area. No dangers awaited, though.
The prisoners sat in a tight huddle near the fire pit, wrists zip-tied and guarded closely.
Kurran sat apart from his men, jaw set, eyes flicking between the team and the ridge above as if calculating odds.
Price keyed his sat phone, murmuring to Rourke to confirm the retrieval team was inbound. Overhead, a wedge-tailed eagle circled lazily, the only movement in the sky.
Anna, Sam, and Gaz put together a simple lunch, even offering the prisoners food. Most took it without a word, but Kurran only smirked.
“Hospitality’s wasted out here,” he muttered, tossing the meal aside.
“Keep talking like that and you’ll be carrying your lunch in a drip bag,” Ghost said evenly, never lowering his rifle.
They’d barely finished eating when Blitz’s low growl cut through the quiet. Every head turned toward the sound of approaching rotor blades, faint at first but growing fast.
Three shapes soon appeared over the shimmering horizon.
A pair of Black Hawks flanking a Chinook powered towards them. The aircraft descended, whipping up a storm of dust and grit as they touched down a short distance away.
Soldiers in desert camo gear and men in police uniforms disembarked in a well-rehearsed wave, moving quickly toward the camp.
Jack’s eyes widened as he spotted one of the lead figures. Tall, with dark hair and broad shoulders.
“Gabe?” Jack called.
The man grinned as he strode forward.
“Huntsman! The general figured you’d appreciate a friendly face,” he said.
The handshake between them was firm and solid, a quick nod passing years of unspoken trust.
“Captain Price, sir, I’m Lieutenant Taylor, my men have been ordered to escort you all back to Alice Springs, and then a plane will take us to Canberra,” said Taylor.
“Sounds good,” said Price.
The police officers were informed where the bodies were and would handle everything from there.
“We need to interrogate them, find out who they are working for,” said Price, indicating the prisoners.
“Yes, sir, they’re coming with us,” assured Taylor.
Kurran and his men were hustled into the Chinook under armed guard. Everyone quickly grabbed their gear from the Land Rovers.
When they were ready to depart, they found out Munarra wouldn’t be joining them.
“I need to stay and sort everything out here,” he explained.
Goodbyes, hugs and handshakes were dealt out.
“Thank you for your help, Gavin,” said Lara.
“Good luck on your quest, Lady Croft,” said Munarra.
“Get your wound properly checked out,” warned Anna.
“Will do,” he promised.
Munarra then said his goodbyes to Jack and the others.
“I’ll make sure your vehicles are taken care of,” Munarra promised.
With that, they headed over to the waiting helicopters as their rotors spun up and boarded the Chinook.
The army helicopters quickly took off, heading east, back to Alice Springs.
Anna gripped her seat, but she was getting the hang of flying.
“So you’re Jack’s friend?” she asked Taylor, who was sitting across from her.
“Yeah, saved my life a couple of times,” he said.
Anna grinned and gave Jack a look.
“Yeah, he’s good at that,” Anna said proudly.
Lara’s mind was racing as she sat in the hard seat. She looked at her loyal friends, Sam gave Lara a small smile, and she returned it.
Jonah, sitting next to Lara, glanced over at the still zip-tied prisoners.
“That was close back there, Lara,” he said.
Lara had to agree, having Task Force 141 with them was more than necessary now.
Another shard had been found, and the mysterious person or organisation out there had tried to take this one too.
The race had only gotten more dangerous..

Far from the red dust, canyons and gorges of the Australian outback, the canyons of glass and steel in Midtown Manhattan reflected the sun as a black luxury SUV slid to the curb outside one of the many towering skyscrapers.
The rear door of the SUV opened, and Victoria Hargrave, CEO of Hargrave Global, stepped out. She was tall, striking, her auburn hair perfectly coiffed, her presence commanding enough to make passing pedestrians glance twice.
Two men waited for her.
The first was Preston Vale, her personal assistant. He was slim, sharp-featured, impeccably dressed, and clutching a leather folio like it was an extension of him.
The second man, Logan Kreel, loomed behind Preston. He was broad-shouldered and built like a battering ram. He wore dark cargo pants and a fitted black shirt. His weathered leather jacket did nothing to hide the bulge of his pistol. Kreel’s eyes, cold and calculating, swept the street in slow, deliberate arcs.
Without breaking stride, Hargrave handed Preston her bag.
"Are they all here?" she asked.
"Yes, ma’am," Preston replied smoothly. Kreel just grunted, eyes never leaving the crowd.
The three crossed the lobby without pause, taking a private elevator to the top floor. When the doors opened, the expansive boardroom stretched out before them, the Manhattan skyline framed by floor-to-ceiling glass. Conversations around the long table died instantly as Hargrave entered.
She took her seat at the head, setting down a slim tablet.
"What's the status on Croft?" she asked.
One of the men cleared his throat.
"My asset in Australia reported he had found Croft, but nothing more, he has failed to check in," he said.
Hargrave’s eyes slid to the Australian mining tycoon two seats down, Clive Harrow, who shifted uncomfortably.
Preston tapped a control, and surveillance photos filled the wall screens: Lara Croft and her associates. Another series of photos showed a group of soldiers, grainy and taken from a distance.
"Have we identified her protectors?" Hargrave asked.
"Not yet. Our contact in the British government… has gone silent," admitted another man.
Hargrave’s expression hardened.
"So, we know nothing?" she asked.
"No, ma’am," Preston confirmed.
Shakes of heads. Hargrave sat back, her fingers drumming once against the polished table. In less than a week, Croft had achieved what the Order had spent decades attempting — securing two shards.
And she wasn’t slowing down.
“And the people we sent to retrieve the Egyptian piece and Croft’s research from her home?” Hargrave asked.
There was more silence, and Preston shook his head.
First, Mikhail Orlov’s interference in Egypt, Faheem’s failure to get the shard and now even more setbacks.
Hargrave's gaze drifted to the wall, where an oil portrait of her great-grandfather hung. Founder of both Hargrave Global and one of the Order’s original architects. She already knew what his answer would be.
"Perhaps," she said slowly, "it’s time we stop relying on intermediaries."
Kreel smirked at this. The big ex-Navy SEAL had been itching for some action.
“Don’t worry, my boys and I will take care of these limy punks, ma’am,” he said
Preston rolled his eyes, and some of the other order members coughed awkwardly.
Hargrave gave Kreel a stern look.
“While I do appreciate the enthusiasm, Mr Kreel, you’re not paid to be overconfident,” she said firmly.
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Kreel.
“We find out who they are first, they must have families, loved ones,” said Hargrave.
The men and women around the room nodded.
“I want them and Croft taken care of. Croft can’t find the rest of the pieces before us, is that clear?” she ordered.
The room all murmured in agreement.
With that, they knew were dismissed. As they filed out, Hargrave stood up and walked to stare out the window.
She looked down at the bustling world below.
They were close, too close for anything or anyone to get in their way. The Order, her Order, would prevail at any cost…

Chapter Text

Dark storm clouds smothered the Canberra sky, lit in jagged bursts of lightning that painted the city in stark whites and blacks. Thunder cracked like artillery rolling over the hills, and icy rain hammered down on the motorcade as it wound its way from the private airstrip.
In the lead car, Price sat stiff-backed, his eyes fixed on the wet blur of streets beyond the glass. The only sounds inside were the rain, the steady drone of the engine and the rhythmic squeak of wipers swiping away.
Behind him, Lara and Jonah rode in silence. Lara’s hand rested protectively on the satchel at her side, the bag carrying the shard. She hadn’t let it out of her reach since they’d left Alice Springs. Jonah glanced at her, wanting to say something reassuring, but a single look at her expression, a mix of weariness and steel, kept him quiet.
The atmosphere in the convoy was heavy. Kurran and his men had been hauled off the transport plane by Federal Police, bound for interrogation. Price had wanted to oversee it personally, but the authorities had shut him down firmly: it was a police matter. That didn’t sit well with him.
The cars slowed as the high walls of the British Embassy loomed into view. Gates opened at their approach, iron grinding against iron, and the convoy swept inside. Security men with umbrellas rushed forward.
“Lady Croft, I’m Ambassador Richard Halford. Welcome,” said a tall man in a suit warmly, despite the weather.
“Thank you, Ambassador,” Lara replied, shaking his hand as they hurried inside.
Warmth enveloped them as soon as they entered the building. The storm’s roar dimmed to a distant growl, replaced by the polished hush of embassy halls.
While Sam, Jonah, Anna and Blitz waited in a comfy reception lounge, the rest were guided into a large wood-panelled conference room. Australian and British flags in the corners, and a long table already waiting.
General Rourke rose from his chair, hands clasped behind his back, while several suited men stood nearby. At the far side of the room, Agent David Trent leaned casually against the wall, arms folded.
“David?” Lara said, surprised.
“Hello, Lara,” Trent replied, offering a small grin.
Introductions were swift. Among the suits was Assistant Director Collins of the Australian Federal Police.
Once everyone was seated, Collins nodded to one of his aides at a laptop.
The wall monitors blinked alive, filling the room with mugshots. Greasy faces, hard stares, criminal dossiers scrolling underneath.
“The men who attacked you in the gorge are known to us: petty thieves, burglars, small-time muscle. Hardly professionals,” said Collins.
The screen changed. Mason Kurran’s face filled the frame, glaring mugshot eyes.
“Mason Kurran, Smuggler. Thief. Known for trafficking Aboriginal artefacts. He’s been in and out of prison more times than I can count, and he always comes out working for someone worse. We believe his current employer may be this man,” explained Collins.
The image shifted again. An older, broad-shouldered man in an expensive suit, photographed shaking hands with politicians and cutting ribbons at mines.
“Clive Harrow. CEO of Harrow Mining. He’s got a long history of shady land acquisitions and failed court battles with traditional owners. Money, power, influence… and friends in the wrong places.”
Lara exchanged a look with Price. The name meant nothing to them. But the feeling in the room shifted—like a new piece of the puzzle had just been set on the board.
“We’ll dig deeper. If Harrow’s connected to this… he won’t stay a free man for long,” promised Collins.
The Australians gathered their files and left, promising updates.
Trent then stepped forward, tapping at the laptop.
“So, we’ve identified the men from the Cairo ambush,” he revealed.
The monitors lit again. This time with grim, scarred faces. No petty crooks. Soldiers.
“All former Russian military, Ex-Spetsnaz, GRU, mercenaries. Our sources confirm they were working under contract to Mikhail Orlov,” Trent explained.
The room went still. Price met Ghost’s gaze. Soap let out a low whistle.
“We don’t know Orlov’s location at this moment, but we are still looking for him,” said Trent, his tone clipped.
Price frowned, jaw tightening. A Russian arms dealer with Orlov’s reach and resources was bad enough. Having him unaccounted for—and hunting them—was worse.
Ambassador Halford leaned forward in his chair, his expression wary.
“Why is Orlov after you, Lady Croft? Is this all because of the artefact you stole from him?” he asked.
Lara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hand brushing the strap of her bag almost reflexively. She didn’t like the word stole.
Halford pressed on before she could answer.
“And what did you find in the Northern Territory? What was this Kurran fellow after? If you have anything sacred to the Aboriginal people, you’ll have to hand it over immediately,” He asked.
The words hung in the room. Lara’s eyes flicked. She wasn't ready to reveal the existence of the shards, not here, not to people who couldn’t be certain allies.
“I don’t,” Lara said finally, her voice calm but firm.
The ambassador studied her for a moment, as if trying to read more in her eyes, then nodded.
“Very well,” he said
His tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced. He leaned back in his chair.
“What are your plans now?” he asked.
“We need to get back home, the sooner the better,” Lara answered, giving Price a small nod.
Halford exhaled, almost with relief. The less trouble he had to deal with, the better.
“Do you require travel arrangements?” he asked.
Lara shook her head.
“No, thank you. That won’t be necessary,” she assured.
Satisfied, Halford excused himself, clearly eager to move on to matters less complicated than gunfights in gorges and Russian arms dealers.
Secure accommodation had been arranged, and everyone was escorted there.
The luxury apartments were comfortable, a little too pristine, as though designed to remind foreign dignitaries that Australia’s capital could be civilised and safe.
The team settled in. Soap kicked his boots off without hesitation, Jonah rummaged for some snacks, while Ghost kept checking the blinds out of habit. Sam went through her camera equipment and began transferring files to her computer.
While everyone relaxed, Jack, Anna and Blitz went to have dinner with Evelyn, Jack needing to keep his promise to her.
The others ordered dinner in. While they waited, Price went to call Reeve to see if he could help again. Lara stopped him before he could, concerned.
“Can we trust him?” Lara asked.
Price couldn’t tell her why they could trust him; she would just have to accept that they could.
Reeve was more than happy to offer his plane again. It was still in Sydney, and he would have it flown to Canberra to take them back to England.
When Jack, Anna and Blitz returned, everyone was still relaxing in the living room of the apartment. The air was warm with camaraderie despite the tension.
“We’re heading back home in the morning, courtesy of Reeve again,” said Price to Jack and Anna.
“Sounds good," said Jack.
He turned to Anna.
"Ready for another plane trip?” he asked her.
“Sure,” said Anna with a grin.
They turned in early, all getting some sleep to be ready to return to England.
Rising early and getting ready, they ate a quick breakfast before collecting their gear and gathering outside. The morning was crisp and cold, the sky still heavy with storm clouds.
General Rourke and Taylor were waiting by the vehicles that would take the team to the airport.
“Good luck,” said Rourke.
“Thank you, sir,” Price replied.
Taylor gave Jack a lopsided grin.
“Give us a call if you need backup,” he said as he shook Jack’s hand.
Jack chuckled as Price smirked beside him.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” said Price.
Then Trent appeared, a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Room for one more?” he asked casually.
Price and Lara shared a look. They both knew he wasn’t really asking. Someone had ordered him along, most likely to keep a closer eye on Lara.
When their gear had been packed in the vehicles and with a last goodbye to Rourke and Taylor, the convoy rolled out.
It weaved through the quiet morning streets back to the private airfield from the day before.
Waiting on the tarmac was Lord Reeve’s sleek jet, polished and imposing against the grey sky.
The crew greeted them warmly as they boarded.
Jack grinned as Anna sank into one of the plush leather seats and was offered a drink by a smiling attendant. Blitz settled at their feet, tail wagging as he accepted treats.
Engines roared to life. The jet rolled forward, powered down the runway, then lifted into the dark, stormy sky.
Less than an hour into the flight, one of the attendants approached Price and Trent.
“There is a priority call for you,” she said.
She powered on a flip-down bulkhead monitor. The screen flickered, then resolved into three faces: Lord Reeve, Foreign Secretary Noah Williams, and General Stratton.
Price and the rest of Task Force 141 straightened up slightly in the company of their superiors.
“Hello, everyone,” said Reeve.
“We’re relieved to see you alive and safe, Lady Croft—and you and your men as well, Captain,” Williams added.
“Thank you, sir,” Price replied.
Williams leaned forward.
“So we should get into the reason for this call. We’ve uncovered a security leak. It appears intelligence has been passed on regarding your Cairo operation. That may be how Orlov’s people intercepted you,” he revealed.
A ripple of unease spread through the cabin.
“The mole was a mid-level MI6 analyst. He had legitimate clearance to view certain reports, but he attempted to dig deeper into restricted files. That’s what exposed him. After your last mission, all of Task Force 141’s records and files were flagged as eyes-only. Any unauthorised access immediately raises alarms,” said Stratton.
Price exchanged a sharp look with Ghost and Soap. Trent raised an eyebrow and was more than concerned at this; a mole in his house wasn’t good news.
“He was detained, and some very irregular and large money transfers were discovered in his accounts,” said Williams.
“So he sold what he could access to Orlov?” asked Price.
“That is our current assessment,” Stratton confirmed.
Williams nodded and turned to Lara.
“Lady Croft, once again, we have no legal grounds to restrict your movements. But given what we’re seeing, we urge you to proceed with extreme caution,” he said firmly.
As Lara nodded, Williams then turned to Price.
“Captain, you and your men are to remain with Lady Croft as her protection detail, and I would like Agent Trent to join you as well,” he ordered.
“Understood, sir,” Price said, and Trent nodded.
Williams and Stratton signed off, but Reeve remained onscreen, his expression troubled.
“There’s more?” Price asked.
“I wasn’t going to mention it in the company of Williams and Stratton, but you need to be informed,” said Reeve.
“What is it?” asked Lara.
“After you left for Australia, I placed a security detail near your estate,” said Reeve.
“What?” Lara asked as her eyes narrowed.
“Just a precaution, I assure you, Lady Croft, but it proved wise. My men intercepted a group of intruders attempting to force entry,” he said.
Lara’s pulse quickened.
“Did they get inside?” she asked.
“No. My people stopped them before they could; they were career criminals, but low-level thugs by all appearances.” Reeve revealed.
Lara and Price exchanged glances.
“But they were very specific about what they were after. A glowing metal rock. And your father’s research,” said Reeve.
Lara’s chest tightened. They knew exactly what to look for.
Price leaned closer to the monitor.
“So, Orlov again?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” Reeve said carefully. “The men didn’t know their employer; they were contracted through encrypted messaging apps, dead drop cash payments, untraceable.”
Price frowned at this information.
“MI6 and my people are still chasing the accounts the analyst was paid from, but so far… It’s smoke; whoever is pulling the strings, they cover their tracks well," Reeve then said.
For a long moment, the only sound in the cabin was the drone of the engines. Lara met Jack’s eyes, then Jonah’s.
Orlov was dangerous, yes. But this felt different. More calculated. Someone else was moving pieces across the board—and staying just out of sight.
“I’ll keep you updated. In the meantime, stay safe,” Reeve insisted.
He then signed off, and the screen blinked black.
Lara called Winston on the jet's secure line to ensure all was well at the manor.
He had no knowledge of the attempted break-in, but his voice carried steady reassurance.
“I shall keep watch, milady, until your return,” he promised.
Satisfied, Lara ended the call.
As Reeve’s jet cut across the endless blue, everyone settled into the long flight, their thoughts weighed down by everything they had learned.
Anna sat quietly by the window, chin resting on her hand. Below them, the vast Australian desert stretched like an ochre sea.
“It’s even more beautiful from the air,” she whispered, a smile softening her features.
Jack grinned, watching her wonder lift the heavy mood in the cabin, if only for a moment.
Ida, sitting across the aisle, smiled too.
"Somewhat different from the forests and mountains back home, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yes, I was hoping to see more of it," Anna replied wistfully.
"How about this? When this is all over, we can come back and explore as much as we want," Jack promised, and Anna's face lit up at this
The jet continued on across the vast continent, and after a refuel in Perth, they made the long push north, across the expanse of the ocean, chasing the dark.
Many hours later, the lights of London glittered like a jewelled crown beneath the clouds.
The jet descended smoothly into the private airfield, where another motorcade waited, courtesy of Reeve.
The drive was swift and uneventful, and at last Croft Manor loomed into view through the gates, its familiar stone walls bathed in the warm glow of lanterns.
Winston stood ready on the steps, hands folded neatly, eyes crinkling with warmth as they disembarked.
“Welcome home, milady,” he said.
He then turned to the others, with equal sincerity,
“And welcome back, too, all of you,” he said.
Anna gazed up at the sprawling house, awe flickering in her eyes.
“It’s just like the Reeve estate,” she breathed.
Jack gave a soft chuckle.
“Yeah… it kinda is,” he said in agreement.
Inside, after their gear was stowed, Lara carried the Australian shard to the basement vault.
She set it carefully beside the Egyptian one. Immediately, both pulsed with a faint glow, their surfaces trembling as if calling to each other.
Lara frowned and, with deliberate care, separated them for the time being.
Dinner that night was rich and comforting: roast lamb, vegetables, fine wine. Even Blitz had his own bowl by Jack and Anna’s feet, tail thumping as he ate with gusto.
“I could get used to this,” Gaz muttered between bites.
“Don’t let it spoil you,” Price warned with a smirk.
“Yes, sir,” Gaz said quickly, though the grin on his face betrayed him.
Soap leaned back with a sly look.
“So, any chance champagne and caviar can make it into our standard rations?” he asked teasingly.
There were knowing looks exchanged at this.
After dinner and dessert had been finished, everyone decided to turn in for the night.
They were exhausted from the trip, but Price still wanted watches.
Jack and Gaz took the first shift. Anna, from the edge of their bed, watched as Jack geared up, slipped on his vest and checked his weapons.
“We’ll be safe here?” she asked, glancing out the window with concern.
“Yeah, we’ll be fine, we have Blitz remember,” assured Jack with a smile.
Blitz lifted his head and barked from his spot on the floor. Anna grinned at this, some of her concern fading.
Giving Anna a quick kiss, Jack joined Gaz in the hall and the two of them headed downstairs.
Lara, from her bedroom, stared out at the garden outside the window.
She watched as Jack and Gaz began their patrol, hoping they wouldn’t have to deal with any intruders. She and Price had ensured her security was all working and all cameras functioning.
There was a knock at the door. She opened it and let in Winston, who had a tray with a steaming mug on it.
“A nice cup of hot chocolate always calms the nerves, milady,” he said knowingly.
He set the mug down. Lara smiled, remembering as a girl when she had a tough day, Winston always knew how to cheer her up.
“Thank you, Winston,” she said.
“Good night, milady,” he said as he left, closing the door behind him.
Lara sipped at the hot drink and looked out into the darkness again.
Somewhere, someone out there, with unknown intentions, was determined to get the shards and unite them.
Lara, her friends and Task Force 141 needed to get them first; the world may depend on it…

Chapter Text

The smell of coffee, eggs, and bacon filled the long dining hall of Croft Manor as sunlight streamed warmly through the windows.
The night had passed without incident. No shadows outside, no strangers at the gates. Everyone had slept deeply and awoken refreshed.
Anna gazed in wonder at the spread as everyone sat around the oak table, plates piled high with finely cooked food.
It reminded her of the breakfasts at the Reeve estate, though the small collection of colourful cereal boxes was very different.
“I think this food is going to spoil me,” joked Gaz as he pondered what to eat first.
“I’m glad you like it, Sergeant Garrick,” said Winston proudly as he poured out some tea into Gaz’s cup.
Anna and Ida had offered to help with breakfast, but Winston had firmly insisted they were guests and he and the manor staff had it handled.
Blitz, already fed, sprawled at Jack and Anna’s feet but perked up eagerly when Jack flicked him a piece of sausage.
Sam giggled at this and tossed him a bit of her bacon, too.
“Careful, he’ll expect more treats from you now,” Jack warned with a grin as Blitz snapped up the morsel.
“He’s a good boy; he should have all the treats,” said Sam.
Blitz barked softly and wagged his tail in agreement, causing smiles and laughter.
Price leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea before glancing at Lara.
“So, where to next?” he asked her.
Lara set her coffee down, eyes moving from one face to another. The same question was written on all of them.
“I’m not entirely sure. My father was on the hunt for two more shards, one in Peru, the other was brought back to Europe from the Middle East by Teutonic Knights,” she answered.
“How many shards are there?” asked Ida.
“My father believed there are six, but he wasn’t exactly sure. He had narrowed down four of them before he died; the potentially last two eluded him,” Lara answered.
“What are these shards you’re after, Lara? Why are they so important?” asked Trent.
Lara hesitated, her eyes narrowing on the MI6 agent. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to have him here, but at least it was David. Better the devil she knew.
“My father believed they were relics left behind by an advanced civilisation. Possibly… alien,” she answered.
Trent blinked. Then let out a soft, incredulous laugh.
“Aliens. Really?” he asked.
He looked around for support. But everyone else sat silently, their faces unreadable.
“And you lot are just going along with this?” Trent pressed, looking at Price.
Price’s gaze didn’t waver.
“We’ve experienced the unbelievable,” he said simply with a shrug.
Lara arched a brow at this. He and the others had said things like that before, little hints, but never explained.
Her gaze then drifted to Anna.
She still puzzled Lara the most. Why was she here, and why had she joined them in the first place?.
Anna had none of the hardened bearing of a soldier, yet Task Force 141 treated her like one of their own. Trusted her judgment, deferred to her in small ways. She wasn’t just Jack’s fiancée; she was part of something larger, something Lara didn’t yet understand.
When breakfast was finished off and cleared away, they all headed to Lara’s father’s study.
Lara pulled open the wall safe and carefully spread her father’s research across the desk. She also made a mental note to transfer everything to the basement vault for better safekeeping.
Maps, sketches, and journal entries lined the large table, and everyone crowded around to take a closer look.
Lara ran her fingers over one of the maps, over the handwritten notes her father had jotted along the borders and took in the smell of the ageing paper. She had loved the scent of the maps, old books and frail documents her father had shown her as a child and still did to this day.
Lara also opened her father’s journal and began to read the entry on the shard he believed was somewhere in Peru.
“The Quechua speak of a star-stone hidden in a Sacred Valley, sealed away in an Incan temple half-buried by time and floods. They say water flows through its heart, channels carved by the priests to guard what was placed within,”
“Did he know where the temple is?” asked Jonah.
“No, but he was close. I have someone on it who was helping him, a friend of his, hopefully she has made some progress,” said Lara.
“And the other?” asked Price.
Lara flicked to the page containing the relevant passage. Everyone took turns reading what he had written and looking over the drawings.
- In my research on the Teutonic Order, I uncovered records suggesting that a fragment of a star-stone with ‘light that burned but gave no heat' was carried westward during the Crusades. Accounts differ on where it was discovered. Rather than deliver it to the Church, a cadre of knights smuggled the relic back to the German lands.
It was entrusted to the Knight’s most secret guardians. From there, it seems to have vanished into obscurity. But some accounts tell of catacombs beneath a church, their entrance sealed and since forgotten, that’s where it might be still hidden,” -
Anna was the last to read the passage, and her eyes widened in recognition at the symbols drawn on the page.
“Oh, I’ve seen these before,” she said.
“You have, where?” asked Lara in surprise.
Anna hesitated, looking at Jack and Price.
“When I was a girl, my father was negotiating to build another factory for his business in the town of Hohenfeld in Bavaria. We visited an old medieval church there. It was crumbling, nearly abandoned. The owner showed us below, into the catacombs. I remember the carvings. The symbols. The same as these,” she explained, pointing to the journal.
Lara, listening intently, opened up a laptop on her father’s desk. She booted it up and did some searching. She frowned at the results, though.
“There’s no church; there was one, but it was destroyed in heavy Allied bombing in World War II. The church was never rebuilt. Are you sure it was there?” Lara asked.
Anna looked at Jack with conviction.
“It was there, I know what I saw,” she said quietly.
Jack looked at Price. Price understood what had to happen next. He exchanged looks with Soap, Ida and Ghost, and they understood too.
“Anna’s sure because she was there, before the war,” said Jack.
Everyone but Soap, Ghost, Price and Ida all looked at him with confusion.
“What does that mean, before the war?” asked Lara.
Price coughed as he stood up. Everyone turned to him as a serious look came across his face.
“What you are about to hear doesn’t leave this room, understood?” he said firmly.
Lara, Sam, Jonah, Trent and Gaz all exchanged looks and then nodded.
“Is this about your last mission, sir? The one I’m not supposed to ask about?” asked Gaz.
“Yes,” said Price.
When he was sure everybody was listening, Price launched into the story.
“A little while ago, we and along with Ida and her KSK team were sent to investigate Neo-Nazi terrorist activity in Germany, but it what we found wasn’t a bomb or any like that, they had somehow built a time machine and before we knew what was going on, we were sent back to 1944 Germany, during D-Day,” said Price.
The room was filled with incredulous looks at this. Lara almost couldn’t believe it, but she could see the unwavering looks on their faces. Also why would they make up such a ridiculous story?.
“What? Come on, really?” asked Trent with a scoff.
Ghost threw him a withering scowl, and the man paled.
“It sounds crazy, but it really did happen,” said Soap.
Lara and the rest just listened as Price, Soap, Ida, and Jack went on to tell the events. How they found themselves in Nazi Germany, Jack finding Anna, meeting up with an OSS agent, moving through occupied France with the help of the resistance, then joining forces with American paratroopers in Normandy to stop the future Nazi’s from launching a nuclear warhead into London.
“It was Lord Reeve’s great-grandfather, a time traveller too, who helped us get back,” said Jack.
The air was heavy with silence as they all took in the story. It sounded crazy, but they were after alien-made objects after all, so time travel wasn’t too much more far-fetched.
“Holy shit,” breathed Jonah finally.
“You’re really from the 1940s?” Sam asked Anna.
Anna nodded as Jack squeezed her hand.
“Yes, and Blitz too,” said Anna.
Blitz, hearing his name, cocked his head and wagged his tail.
“So that’s why you trust Reeve?” asked Lara.
“Yeah,” said Price.
“Aliens, now time travel, here I thought I’d been assigned to you for a simple protection job,” said Trent.
He seemed to be the only one having a hard time handling everything.
“You should probably see the shards,” suggested Lara.
They all headed down to the basement vault. Lara placed her palm against the reader and then put her eye up to the scanner.
There was a beep, and the heavy metal doors slid open, revealing a room inside that looked part museum, part treasure hoard.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves were lined with ancient tomes, scroll cases, and weathered maps. Glass cases displayed relics from around the world—jade masks from Mesoamerica, ceremonial blades from Japan, a Roman centurion’s helmet, and an Egyptian statuette of Anubis that seemed to glare into them.
Several larger objects stood on plinths in the centre of the room: a weathered shield marked with strange runes, a bronze astrolabe the size of a wagon wheel, and a cracked marble bust that Lara remembered her father hauling back from Greece when she was barely tall enough to see over the crate.
Price’s eyes scanned the chamber, arms folded, more interested in the security measures than the treasures.
At the far end, on a table, were two small lock boxes, set apart from each other.
Lara opened them both, revealing the two collected shards.
Even kept apart, the two pieces seemed to sense each other—trembling faintly, the light within them throbbing like a heartbeat.
“So when you find them all, what happens then?” Trent asked.
“My father believed they would form a key,” Lara explained.
“A key that unlocks what?” Trent asked.
Lara could only shrug.
“That’s what we will have to find out, this is why we’re racing. Why Orlov—and whoever else—is after them,” Lara explained to Trent.
Anna, standing beside Jack, stared at the shards with quiet awe. For her, a woman from the forties, the glowing stones were a reality almost as hard to accept as time travel. Blitz pressed closer to her leg, ears pricked, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
Lara turned to her.
While understanding why she was with them now, she needed to know if Anna had really seen what her father had been searching for.
“So, you’ve really seen the carvings and symbols in my father’s journal?” Lara asked Anna.
“Yes,” said Anna.
“And they were in the catacombs below the church?” Lara asked.
“Yes, the catacombs scared the life out of me,” said Anna.
Lara trusted her answer.
They had a very good opportunity here. If her father hadn’t managed to discover the location of the church and the catacombs below, then whoever was looking for the shards, too, most likely hadn’t either.
“We need to get to it, sooner the better,” she suggested firmly.
Price nodded, thinking the same thing.
“Alright, you heard her, gear up and let’s move out,” he said.
No one argued.
Anna, Trent and Task Force 141 left the vault to gather their gear, leaving Lara, Sam and Jonah in the vault.
The three of them exchanged looks. They had some adventures together, but now this.
“So, time travel?” asked Jonah in a hushed voice.
Sam had the same expression on her face.
“It sounds so out there, do you really think it happened, did they really travel through time?” Sam asked in the same hushed voice as Jonah.
Both obviously had millions of questions wanting to be answered. Lara didn’t say anything, but she wanted more answers, too.
Her quest for the shards had just gotten far more stranger....

Chapter Text

Lord Reeve’s private jet cut through the clear skies over the English Channel, its engines a steady hum that only made the silence in the cabin feel heavier.
Everyone was comfy in their seats, but few looked relaxed. The weight of what had been revealed back at Croft Manor still lingered.
At the rear of the jet, Price leaned back in his seat, sat phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, clipped, all business.
“Well, it was never going to be a secret forever,” Reeve’s smooth tone crackled through the line. “Sooner or later, it was bound to come out.”
“Yeah,” Price muttered, eyes narrowing. “Just hope they can keep it to themselves.”
“I can’t speak for Lady Croft and her friends, but Agent Trent is solid. I’ve had him checked out, he won’t be trouble,” said Reeve with confidence.
“Copy that,” said Price.
General Stratton’s voice then joined in, firmer, all steel.
“We’ll put eyes back on Croft Manor again,” he promised.
“You might want to send more than just a few uniforms, sir,” Price advised.
“Duly noted, John,” said Stratton.
“Any word on Orlov, or the person who hired those who tried to break into the Croft estate?” Price asked.
“No, but we’re still investigating, only a matter of time,” Stratton assured.
“Understood,” said Price.
“Good luck in Germany, Captain,” Reeve finished.
Price ended the call, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The seat opposite shifted as Ida sat down, phone still in her hand.
“Berlin’s on board, we’ll have backup waiting when we land and anything we need,” she said to Price.
The highest levels of the German government were more than grateful after learning what Task Force 141 and Ida had prevented. Along with Anna, they were all unsung heroes that only a few knew about.
“Good, we might need it,” Price grunted.
Ida studied him for a moment, then flicked her gaze forward to where Lara and the others were sitting.
“You think they’ll keep quiet?” she asked.
“They’d better,” Price replied flatly.
Further up the cabin, Sam shifted restlessly in her seat. She had questions—about time travel, about Anna, about all of it—but one look from Ghost and Jack had shut her down.
Jonah and Lara were the same, brimming with curiosity but wise enough to wait. They would get their answers when the time was right.
For Anna, though, the truth being out was oddly freeing. No more half-truths, no more lies about where—or when—she came from. She sat close to Jack, Blitz curled obediently at her feet, and for the first time since being pulled into this new life, she allowed herself to breathe.
The jet banked eastward, and soon the forests and patchwork towns of Germany rolled into view beneath the clouds. Tension gathered again as the landing gear locked into place.
The aircraft touched down on a secluded airfield and taxied into the shadow of an empty hangar. Engines whined to silence. The hatch opened with a hiss of hydraulics, and one by one, they stepped out onto the tarmac.
“Déjà vu, huh?” Soap muttered as they looked around.
They had landed at the same airfield that Task Force 141 had used on their mission into the Neo-Nazi bunker.
“Let’s hope not,” Ghost growled, his voice low under his mask.
Jack glanced at Anna and allowed himself a grin.
“I don’t know. Things turned out all right,” he said.
Anna’s cheeks flushed, her smile blooming.
The jet crew quickly offloaded the gear and weapons. The pilot gave Price a crisp nod.
“Lord Reeve has instructed us to wait for your return, Captain Price.”
“Understood,” Price replied, his eyes already moving to the motorcade of vehicles pulling up along the edge of the runway.
Their presence immediately set Task Force 141 on edge; hands drifted toward rifles and pistols, but Ida raised a calming hand.
“They’re friendly,” she said firmly.
Engines idled, doors opened, and several men climbed out. Almost all of them wore the kit and bearing of professionals—KSK, German Special Forces, like Ida.
At the front of the group, a broad-shouldered operator with sharp eyes stepped forward. Beside him was a civilian in a tailored coat, his spectacles gleaming in the daylight.
“Welcome back to Germany,” the operator said, voice steady. “I’m Captain Adler, KSK. And this is Dr. Wagner, Senior Cultural Heritage Officer, Ministry of Culture.”
“Good to be back,” said Price as he shook Adler’s hand.
Adler turned to Ida and offered a respectful nod. Though they had never served together, there was recognition in the gesture. Warriors acknowledging one another by reputation.
“You will have anything you need while you are here,” Adler promised.
His words were aimed at Price, not Lara. She was quick to notice this.
“Much appreciated,” Price said smoothly.
Dr. Wagner stepped closer, his academic curiosity outweighing his formality.
“I understand you are seeking the remains of a medieval church, Lady Croft?” he asked.
“Yes,” Lara said, her voice cool but steady. “My father believed there are undiscovered catacombs beneath it—built and sealed by the Teutonic Knights.”
At that, Wagner’s eyes lit with interest, his breath catching slightly.
“Teutonic Knights?” He said as he adjusted his glasses. “ Well, that would be… remarkable. A discovery of immense historical significance.”
The vehicles were loaded swiftly, gear stowed with efficiency. Within minutes, the convoy was on the move, rolling out of the airfield and into the countryside.
Dr. Wagner settled into the seat beside Lara, curiosity written all over him.
“I knew your father—by reputation only. A brilliant man. Tireless, though… some said he chased shadows,”
Lara met his gaze.
“He chased the truth.”
Wagner studied her for a moment, as if weighing the conviction in her voice, then nodded.
In one of the trailing vehicles, Anna leaned her forehead against the window. The German countryside stretched out before her—rolling fields, clusters of farmhouses, church steeples in the distance. Her smile was wistful. It was the same land she remembered, yet transformed. More houses. More roads. More people. But the heart of it, her country, remained.
Jack watched her quietly from the opposite seat, recognising the weight of her silence.
The town of Hohenfeld was a quiet jewel tucked among the thick woods and wide fields of rural Germany. Its cobblestone streets wound between timbered houses and tidy shops, the air crisp with wood-smoke and the faint scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery.
Blitz gave a sharp bark from the back seat as he spotted a herd of cows grazing lazily in a pasture, their heads lifting briefly before returning to the grass.
The convoy rolled off the main street and came to a halt in the gravel lot of a two-story brick building. A modest sign in German and English read: Hohenfeld Museum – Local History & Heritage.
Lara stared up at the building with a knot of trepidation.
If her father’s research was right, what they were looking for lay hidden here—but if they were wrong, this could all amount to another dead end.
The museum’s director emerged as Dr. Wagner stepped forward to greet him. The man was short and round, with spectacles perched precariously on his nose. They spoke quickly in German before Wagner gestured Lara closer.
“You are looking for the old medieval church that once stood here?” the director asked, his tone polite but wary as his eyes flicked to the armed soldiers in tactical vests.
“Yes,” Lara said gently, lowering her voice. “We’re interested in what may lie beneath it.”
The man gave a long sigh and adjusted his glasses.
“The church itself is long gone—destroyed during the bombing raids of the war. This museum stands where it once did,” he said
Lara frowned, but the director's eyes then narrowed thoughtfully.
“But its basement still exists,” he revealed.
That caught Lara’s attention.
Adler and his KSK operators remained outside to secure the perimeter, while the others went into the museum.
Inside, their footsteps echoed against stone floors and plaster walls. Display cases showed fragments of medieval pottery, rusted helmets, and faded black-and-white photographs. A few patrons shrank back nervously at the sight of armed soldiers walking the exhibits.
Anna suddenly stopped before a large framed photograph. A black-and-white image of a medieval-style church dominated the frame. Her breath caught in her chest.
“That’s the church,” she whispered to Lara.
The director followed her gaze.
“Yes. That photo was taken only a few years before the town was bombed. The church was unfortunately never rebuilt,” he said.
He led them down a narrow staircase at the back of the building, unlocking a heavy steel door to reveal a dim basement.
The air was musty, filled with the scent of damp stone and old wood. Dust motes swirled in the weak glow of the light bulbs. Crates, broken furniture, and forgotten equipment were stacked in heaps, untouched for decades.
“I’ve been director here for twenty years,” the man admitted with a shrug. “I rarely come down here. My grandmother would have remembered more; she spoke of the church as if it was sacred.”
The group spread out, boots crunching across the stone floor as they searched. To most, it looked like nothing but a neglected storeroom.
But Lara’s instincts screamed otherwise.
Her eyes fell on a tall wooden bookshelf pressed flush against the far wall. Something about the brickwork behind it caught her attention. The mortar looked older, out of place compared to the rest of the basement.
“There,” she murmured, striding toward it.
Clambering onto a nearby crate, she brushed away thick dust from the wall on the top of the shelf. Beneath, half-hidden, was the curve of an archway, bricks laid in a distinctly Gothic pattern.
“There’s something here,” she exclaimed.
With a grunt, Jonah, Jack, and Gaz heaved the bookshelf aside, its wood groaning as it slid across the floor. Behind it, a small bricked-in doorway stood revealed, its stones darkened with centuries of soot and age.
“It’s a door,” Lara whispered, excitement flickering in her voice.
The director’s eyes went wide with surprise. A significant discovery had been waiting to be found for decades, hiding in his museum's basement.
A sledgehammer was acquired from one of the KSK vehicles, and Jonah set to work. Each blow cracked mortar and shattered brick until at last a narrow opening yawned into the darkness. A staircase led down, the air wafting up damp and ancient.
At the bottom sat a heavy wooden door, banded with rusted iron. Lara ran her hands across its surface. It was locked tight. Jonah slammed his shoulder against it to no avail.
“Maybe a little brute force?” Price suggested.
Soap knelt, pulling a pouch from his vest.
“Aye, I’ve got just the thing,” he said.
He affixed two small breaching charges to the old hinges, then retreated with the others back up the steps.
“Ready?” Soap asked.
Price gave a sharp nod.
The charges went off with a muffled crack, the stone chamber shuddering as smoke and dust curled up the stairwell. When it cleared, the old wooden door sagged inward, splintered apart to reveal a gaping black void.
Lara’s pulse quickened. She flicked on her torch, its narrow beam slicing into the darkness, and slowly descended the worn stone steps.
The air grew cooler. Damp. Heavy. She stepped into a small chamber and swept her light across the walls. The carvings revealed themselves gradually—shields, crosses, sigils etched into the stone, their edges softened by centuries yet unmistakable. The black cross of the Teutonic Order stared back at her.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“The Knights were here…” she whispered.
Jonah and Dr. Wagner came down behind her, their torches adding to the light. Wagner let out a hushed exclamation, awe tinging his voice.
“My word… this is no ordinary crypt. This is… a sanctum,” he whispered.
The carvings told fragments of a story—knights in solemn procession, swords raised toward heaven, runes mingling Christian faith with older, stranger symbols. This wasn’t just a burial place, crypt or sanctum. It was a vault.
Lara pressed her palm gently against one of the carved crosses, the chill of the stone seeping into her skin. Her voice was soft, reverent.
“We’ve found it.”
They emerged back into the basement where the others waited tensely.
“Well?” Price asked, his tone clipped.
Lara met his eyes, steady and certain.
“We’ve found it.”
Blitz let out a low growl, then whined, ears flattening as he stared at the stairwell. Jack knelt to ruffle his fur.
“Don’t worry, boy. You’re not going down there,” he assured.
Price wasted no time. His voice took on the gravelly weight of command.
“Alright—Soap, Gaz, you’re with me. Ghost, Huntsman, Valkyrie—you hold position up here. I don’t want any surprise visitors creeping up on our arses.”
“Copy,” Ghost muttered as Jack and Ida gave curt nods.
Lara turned to Trent.
“How are you with dark spaces, David?” she asked.
“Not bothered by them,” he said with a shrug.
Lara allowed herself the faintest smile as she handed him a spare flashlight. Her gaze slid to Dr. Wagner, who stood at the top of the steps, visibly torn.
“I’ll stay here,” he said gently. “My days of crawling through dark tunnels are long past. I’ll… document what I can from here.”
Lara nodded. Then, with a final glance at those remaining behind, she adjusted the straps on her pack. Her light cut into the yawning stairwell, beckoning her forward.
“Good luck,” said Sam.
Lara and her team descended with flashlights bobbing and footsteps echoing, into the catacombs, into the dark and into the unknown...

Chapter Text

The hot midday sun blazed down on the city of Lima’s Plaza Mayor, where traffic horns and street vendors’ calls tangled in the air.
From the shaded terrace of a fashionable restaurant, filled with the clattering of plates, the aroma of grilled fish and spices wafting in from the kitchen, and the murmur of its patrons spilling out into the humid air, Victoria Hargrave sat with her drink untouched, her sharp eyes scanning the bustle of the city.
Traffic bleated in the distance, a chaotic counterpoint to the poised, dangerous quiet at Hargrave’s table. Despite the lively backdrop, an invisible bubble of unease seemed to settle around her entourage, and the locals instinctively steered clear.
“So we have no idea where she is?” Hargrave then asked the three men sitting at the table with her.
Preston Vale hesitated to answer, his tablet glowing with intercepted reports and flight logs.
“Croft and her team took off on a private jet near her estate. No flight plan was filed, no transponder tracked. Whoever is protecting her has reach,” he said quietly.
Hargrave frowned at this. Someone very connected was watching over Croft. But who?.
“And her house, can we get the shards from it?” she asked.
Kreel shifted uncomfortably. Like everyone else, he didn't like reporting bad news.
“We’ll need a decent strike team; they’ll be expecting another attempt,” he said.
Hargrave exhaled through her nose, irritation sharp as glass.
Two shards sat practically within her grasp, yet Croft’s defences—and her allies—kept them maddeningly out of reach.
Hargave turned her gaze on the third man at the table. He was a lean man in his fifties with weathered features and clever eyes. He was the only one who seemed unbothered by her scrutiny.
“Professor, please tell me you bring better news?” Hargrave asked, her voice like a blade wrapped in silk.
Professor Esteban Calderón, an accomplished expert on Incan history in Peru, adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses before speaking.
“We are close. My investigations have revealed the mention of a temple hidden in a sacred valley, half-swallowed by floods centuries ago. I believe I have pinpointed its possible location,” he said.
At last, a flicker of satisfaction touched Hargrave’s lips.
“And the permits?” she asked.
The professor hesitated, folding his hands.
“Bribes have opened some doors, but… my government moves slowly. Too slowly,” he answered.
Hagrave’s frown returned. They could operate without the permits, but she didn’t want to deal with any unnecessary entanglements.
“We need those permits, Professor. We will not be hampered by bureaucrats,” she warned firmly.
Calderón inclined his head.
“Then the bribes must increase. Significantly,” he said softly.
“Whatever it takes,” Hargrave said flatly, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
Across the table, Kreel’s posture shifted. His eyes narrowed, one hand ghosting toward his pistol.
“What is it?” Hargrave asked quietly.
“Trouble,” growled Kreel.
Hargrave followed his line of sight—and froze as a familiar figure cut through the restaurant’s tables.
Broad-shouldered and immaculately dressed, Mikhail Orlov cut a striking figure in his tailored suit at odds with the humid bustle of Lima.
Two hulking bodyguards flanked him like shadows, parting the crowd with nothing more than their presence. Orlov moved with the kind of ease that belonged only to men who had killed without hesitation and walked away smiling.
Heads turned as the Russian strode through the restaurant, his sheer presence rippling through the space. Waiters froze mid-step, a couple of tourists at the bar lowered their voices, and the street noise seemed to fade for a moment under the weight of the confrontation about to unfold. Even in Lima’s chaos, people knew when not to look too long.
Hargrave set her glass down with deliberate calm, though her pulse quickened. Of all the people she had expected to see here, the Russian arms dealer was not one of them.
“Of course,” she murmured under her breath, her voice laced with disdain.
Three of Kreel’s men, seated nearby, pushed back their chairs and rose to intercept. Orlov’s bodyguards shifted instantly, shoulders squaring, hands hovering near concealed weapons.
But before violence could spark, Orlov raised a casual hand.
“Spasibo, gentlemen,” he said smoothly.
His men stopped at once, statues again. Kreel gave a sharp nod, and his own men reluctantly sat back down. Orlov's men took a seat at another table, but kept a close watch on their boss.
“Buenos días,” Orlov greeted Hargrave, his smile wide, almost mocking.
“Mikhail,” Hargrave replied evenly, her tone cool steel. “Why do I suspect your appearance here isn’t a coincidence?”
The Russian’s grin only widened.
“Coincidence is for peasants. I prefer… opportunity,” he said.
He gestured lazily toward the table.
“May I?” he asked.
Hargrave’s lips curved into the faintest of smirks as she flicked her hand to the empty chair.
“By all means.”
As he settled in, Hargrave caught the faint whiff of his expensive cologne. The man might have been a cold-blooded arms dealer, but he had good taste when it came to aftershave.
Orlov snapped his fingers at a passing waiter as though he owned the place. He ordered in flawless Spanish, then turned back, his gaze glittering.
Vale and Kreel didn’t say anything; they knew when to stay silent, but Kreel’s eyes narrowed and his hand hovered over his pistol.
Calderón shrank slightly in his seat. His fingers toyed with the rim of his water glass, knuckles pale as though gripping it would anchor him in place. He had spent his career in lecture halls and dusty archives, where authority came from credentials and knowledge. But here, at a table with predators cloaked in wealth and power, he felt like prey.
“So, Mikhail, why are you here?” Hargrave then asked firmly.
“I came,” he said, leaning forward just enough to lower his voice, “to discuss a matter of mutual interest. A business arrangement.”
Hargrave arched a brow, and the Russian let the word hang between them, savouring it like good wine. Then he lowered his tone further, his grin sharp as a knife.
“I know what you’re after, Victoria. What both you and Croft are chasing,” he said.
Hargrave didn’t flinch. She was far too seasoned to let him see a reaction. Instead, she swirled her drink, eyes steady, voice dry.
“And what, exactly, would that be?” she asked.
Orlov’s expression was that of a man enjoying a private joke. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his jacket.
Kreel’s hand twitched toward his sidearm, but Orlov only produced a small, timeworn leather journal. He set it on the table with a quiet thud, his fingers resting atop it like a man revealing his trump card.
Orlov slid the leather-bound journal across the table. Hargrave lifted it with practised care, her brow arching as her fingers traced the embossed swastika glinting faintly in gold on the cover.
A symbol despised for its arrogance—and feared for its ambition.
She opened it, the name of the journal's owner catching her eye, Dr Heinrich Falkenhorst.
“And who was Dr Heinrich Falkenhorst?” Hargrave asked evenly.
“A scholar of the SS,” Orlov replied. “A member of the Ahnenerbe—Hitler’s pet institute for archaeology and the occult. You’ll find his final entry… illuminating.”
Vale quickly began to tap away on his tablet, already searching for anything he could find on the Nazi archaeologist.
Hargrave flipped to the back of the journal and began to read aloud.
-17th November 1941 – Trondheim, Norway.
Deep within the fjord-side burial mound of a long-forgotten chieftain, I have uncovered a relic unlike any I have ever seen in my years of service to the Reich. The tomb itself was primitive, yet magnificent in its austerity—stone slabs blackened with age, iron weapons corroded into little more than rust. But at its heart, in the grip of a warrior’s skeletal remains, lay the prize.
A fragment of stone, jagged yet deliberate in its cut, pulsing faintly with a glow like captured starlight. Even as I write this, I can feel its warmth in my bones, though it gives off no heat. The men trembled when I lifted it, some muttering that it was cursed, that no Viking king should be disturbed. Fools. This is no curse—it is power.
I am convinced beyond doubt that this shard is not of this earth. It hums with energy, and when I held it aloft, the chamber seemed to stir, as though the very air bent around it. Such a gift belongs not in the hands of peasants or buried beneath moss and soil—it must be placed in the service of the Führer, the one man destined to wield its might.
I will personally arrange for its secure transport to Berlin in the morning. The Reich must know of this at once. I have no doubt that the Führer himself will see its value, and with it, the Reich’s dominion shall be assured for a thousand years.-
The entry ended abruptly. Hargrave turned the page, but it was blank.
“There’s nothing more?” she asked.
“No,” Orlov said with a shrug. “The journal ends there. Why? I cannot say.”
Hargrave glanced at Vale, but he shook his head.
“My sources couldn’t find much on him, either or what happened to him,” said Orlov.
Hargrave closed the book, her fingers lingering on the worn leather. The Nazi obsession with power was well-documented, but to see confirmation that they had touched the shard. It chilled her to think what would have happened if Hitler had found all of them.
She forced her thoughts back under control and levelled Orlov with a hard look.
“So you know about the shards,” she said with slight displeasure.
“Well, I do admit I am late to the party and might not know more than you and Croft, but I do catch up fast,” said Orlov.
“I’m going to assume you don’t have it?” Hargrave asked.
Orlov’s smirk wavered slightly before he answered.
“No, many things were brought back to Russia during the collapse of Germany, but no shard, it never reached Berlin, only the doctor’s journal, ” said Orlov.
Hargrave exhaled slowly, weighing it. A dead end, perhaps. But a lead nonetheless.
“And you didn’t fly halfway across the world to deliver a history lesson,” she said coolly.
“Correct.” Orlov leaned back, spreading his hands as if making a grand offer. “I propose a partnership. You have influence. I have… resources.”
“Resources?” Hargrave prompted, unimpressed.
“I understand you’re having trouble securing proper permits and permissions here?” Orlov asked.
“It seems news travels fast,” Hargrave said with displeasure.
“I can help with that,” said Orlov.
“Of course you can,” said Hargrave dryly.
“I can get your permits, get you transport. Soldiers. Helicopters.” Orlov promised.
His eyes then flicked deliberately toward Kreel, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Even your excellent watchdog could use backup.”
The ex-SEAL scowled at this. Hargrave caught the slight, and her eyebrow arched.
“And why would I need more protection?” she asked.
“Because the jungle is not empty,” Orlov said smoothly.
He shifted his gaze to Calderón, who stiffened under the weight of it.
“The native tribes here are… unpredictable. Violent. Dangerous. Wouldn’t you agree, Professor?”
Calderón was first surprised that the man knew who he was, but then bristled, slightly offended at what he had insinuated.
“I would not use those words. But yes… outsiders have been killed for less,” he admitted.
Calderón's eyes then flicked nervously between Kreel’s brutal stillness and Orlov’s casual smirk, and he pressed his lips tight.
He wanted to object and correct Orlov on how he casually dismissed the tribes of his country as “savages,” but the weight of the room crushed his voice. It quickly struck Calderón that his maps, notes and research were suddenly worth more than his life.
“They only concern me if they get in my way,” said Hargrave dismissively.
“Then you will accept my help?” Orlov pressed.
Hargrave’s eyes narrowed.
“And what do you want in return?” she asked coolly.
Orlov’s grin returned, sharp and venomous.
“Croft. Deliver her to me. Alive. The shards… You can have. But Lara Croft belongs to me.”
The hatred in his tone was unmistakable. A man humiliated, eager for revenge.
Hargrave didn’t exactly like it. The shards mattered—Croft was a nuisance, but not the goal. Hargrave had always been clear about that. Yet for now… Orlov’s resources outweighed her distaste.
“You help us,” she said carefully, “and you’ll get what you want.”
Orlov raised his glass, his grin wolfish.
“Then, to our partnership. May it be… profitable,” he announced.
Hargrave clinked her glass against his, her expression cool.
Both knew they were lying. Both knew this partnership would end in betrayal. But for the moment, their goals aligned.
And that would have to be enough…

Chapter Text

As their torch beams cut into centuries of dust and shadow, the catacombs opened before Lara and the others like the throat of some slumbering beast.
The walls were damp with age, carved with blackened crosses and weathered symbols of the Teutonic Order, and the cold, stale air smelled of earth and iron, as though it had been sealed since the knights themselves vanished into legend.
Their footsteps echoed unnaturally loud, bouncing off the stone, as if the place itself was listening. Moss crept in thick patches over cracked mortar, and in places, the walls bore faint grooves, like marks left by blades dragged along their surface.
Lara steadied herself as they moved further down into the dark. Every instinct screamed that this place was more than forgotten stone. Somewhere ahead, hidden in the shadows, waited the shard — but the knights had not meant for it to be found easily.
“Stay sharp,” she said quietly. “The Teutonic Order weren’t just warriors. They were builders of riddles and traps… and they’ll still be guarding what lies ahead.”
“So these knights just dug this all out by hand?” asked Trent as he ran his hand over the walls of the tunnel.
“Perhaps it began as a natural cave system,” Lara said softly, “but yes. The rest was dug with picks, hammers, and blood.”
Trent and Jonah were both quietly impressed.
“Imagine seeing it built,” Jonah murmured.
Lara, at this comment, then turned to look at Price and Soap.
“You two have witnessed history as it happened first hand,” she said.
Soap and Price exchanged knowing looks. Price's jaw tightened; he knew it was a matter of time before the subject came up again.
“It’s not as romantic as it sounds,” Price said at last. “Mostly, we were running for our lives. Wondering if we’d ever get back, we weren’t exactly taking the history in.”
“So you really fought actual Nazis?” Gaz asked.
Price scowled, and Soap just nodded.
“Yeah,” said Soap heavily.
“How did the time machine work?” asked Trent.
It was a question everyone wanted to know the answer to.
“No idea,” said Soap with a shrug and Trent raised an eyebrow.
“Didn’t ask, didn’t care too, way out of our expertise and above our pay grade,” Price growled.
Before more questions could fly, the tunnel widened into a small chamber.
The air grew colder here, heavy with the scent of mildew and something older, sharper — like rust.
Gaz’s torch beam swept across the stones and froze.
“Bloody hell…” he exclaimed.
Against the far wall slumped a skeleton, half-buried in dust and rubble. What remained of its clothes had long since rotted into scraps, but the gleam of rusted metal caught their eyes — a dented lantern, a shattered chisel, and the corroded buckles of a leather satchel. This wasn’t a knight. The body was far more recent but still a century or more old.
“Grave robber,” muttered Price grimly.
“Or someone like us,” said Lara.
Price crouched and touched the floor nearby, where deep grooves ran across the flagstones. A pressure plate, worn but still obvious if you knew what to look for.
Lara stepped closer, studying the bones. The ribs were shattered inward, pulverised as though crushed by something massive. She traced the wall with her torch and saw the remnants of a mechanism — a great stone slab that had once swung down from above.
Jonah crouched down beside her, his expression shifting from curiosity to sombre thought. “This wasn’t some grave robber with a shovel. Look here—tools for careful digging, not looting. Whoever this was, he knew what he was doing,” he said.
Lara just nodded in agreement.
“Seventeenth century, maybe later,” Jonah went on, glancing at the design of the corroded belt buckle. "An early antiquarian. Someone who studied the past, like you.”
The thought hung in the air, heavier than the dust. Lara exhaled slowly, the parallel striking her harder than she expected.
“Whoever he was, he came centuries after the Knights sealed this place,” she said quietly.
“And the traps were still waiting,” said Jonah heavily.
“So people have been looking for the shards for a long time?” Trent asked.
Lara nodded, her voice low. “Always. Legends like this don’t just disappear. They linger, calling to anyone desperate enough to chase them.”
Soap gave a dark chuckle, though his eyes stayed on the broken skeleton. “Well, looks like we’re on the right track, eh?”
“Or the wrong one,” muttered Price.
The chamber seemed to tighten around them, the weight of centuries pressing in. For the first time since entering, Lara felt the eyes of history itself upon them.
“Careful where you step,” Lara warned, her voice hushed but firm. “The knights built this place to keep secrets buried… and it’s already claimed a soul.”
They crossed the chamber with deliberate steps, boots crunching against centuries of dust, breaths held until the other side was reached.
Only when they were safe did anyone exhale.
The tunnel beyond sloped down, its walls pressing in, until it opened into another chamber. Their torchlight swept upward—no looming stone slabs, no dangling weights. Just empty walls, rough-hewn and silent.
Lara scanned every seam of stone, searching for hidden mechanisms. Nothing obvious. She glanced at Price and shrugged.
Soap and Gaz edged forward first, senses on high alert. They moved in tandem, careful, until halfway, Soap felt a stone shift under his boot.
There was an ominous click. The sound was subtle, but it echoed like thunder in the silence.
“Aw, shit,” Soap muttered, freezing mid-step.
The ground rumbled beneath their feet. Stones shifted, grinding against one another.
Then the floor dropped away.
“Soap! Gaz!” Lara shouted, lunging forward, but Price yanked her back by the arm.
The floor split wide, slabs crashing downward into darkness, revealing a yawning pit bristling with ancient, iron-tipped spikes.
Soap and Gaz hurled themselves forward, hitting the far side hard. They rolled and came up coughing, dust rising in a thick cloud around them.
“You two alright?” Jonah called, peering into the torchlit gloom.
Gaz waved, brushing dirt from his sleeve.
“Still breathing,” he assured.
Soap spat grit from his mouth, scowling.
“Bloody knights and their bloody home security,” he muttered.
Lara crept closer to the edge, her light cutting down into the pit. The spikes below gleamed faintly with rust but were no less lethal for their age. Some carried dark stains that time hadn’t erased.
“Too far to jump,” she said.
Jonah was already digging into his pack, fingers brushing past tools until he pulled free a coiled rope. He tested its weight, then tossed one end across the gap to Soap and Gaz.
“Guess we’re doing this the old-fashioned way,” said Jonah, his voice steady but edged with urgency.
Soap caught it cleanly, tying it off to a jagged block of stone that looked sturdy enough to hold. Price mirrored the motion on their side, yanking the knot twice before giving a sharp nod.
“Alright. Nice and slow,” he ordered.
One by one, they crossed. The rope creaked under their weight, but didn’t give way. The air from the pit felt colder somehow, as if the abyss itself breathed up at them.
Trent was the last to cross. His foot slipped, and Price caught him before he tumbled into the pit.
“Easy,” Price growled, steadying him with a firm grip.
Trent swallowed, nodding. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Price released him with a curt nod, as if it had been nothing.
Soap scratched at the back of his neck, guilt flashing in his eyes.
“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.
“Don’t be,” Lara said, patting him lightly on the shoulder. Her tone was firm, reassuring. “The Knights built their traps to be sprung. Anyone of us could’ve triggered it.”
The group pressed on, torches sweeping shadows from the stone.
Before long, they stepped into another chamber, larger this time, the air colder, heavier.
An iron-barred gate loomed at the far end, rusted but still formidable, the black metal biting deep into its stone frame.
Price stepped up and tested it with a shove. The gate groaned but held fast.
“Locked tight,” he said.
“We could blast through it,” Soap suggested.
“Negative, one blast in here and the whole place could come down on us,” Price said curtly, glancing at the ceiling.
Lara stepped up to the gate. Set into it was a large, circular lockplate fashioned around a weathered iron cross. Four concentric rotating rings surround the cross. Each ring was about the width of a man’s hand and turned independently. The rings were engraved with eight distinct medieval icons: a shield, helm, sword, raven, sun, moon, chalice, and oak leaf. A small notch at the top of each ring marked the current symbol in the “active” position.
Beside the gate was a heavy lever that would open the gate when the rings were aligned correctly.
“This is the lock; we just need the combination, ” she said.
“Like a keypad,” said Gaz.
“Essentially, yes,” said Lara with a smile.
Scattered about the chamber are carvings and reliefs: a faded mural of four Teutonic knights in procession, four small medallions inset into the wall above them, and a broken stone plaque with a short Latin motto and four tiny notches beneath it.
Lara’s torch swept across the mural first — four Teutonic knights carved in procession, faint Roman numerals etched beside them. Above each figure, small medallions gleamed: a raven, a sunburst, a sword, a chalice. She crouched infront of the lock.
“It’s a sequence,” she murmured, tracing the worn grooves with her fingertips. “Each ring corresponds to a knight. The medallions above them… raven, sun, sword, chalice — that’s the order.”
She grasped the outermost ring and turned until the raven clicked into place at the notch. “First knight,” she explained softly.
The second ring ground reluctantly beneath her hand until the sunburst aligned.
The third clicked on the sword. Finally, she set the chalice on the innermost ring.
“And the last — the cup of faith.”
Each ring locked with a dry clunk, the sound echoing in the chamber. She drew back, eyes on Price.
“It should be safe now. Pull the lever slowly — if I’m wrong, we’ll know it soon enough,” she said.
Price gave a terse nod, wrapped his hand around the iron lever, and pulled. Ancient gears groaned to life, the central cross shifted sideways, and the gate rumbled open.
The air that wafted out was thick with the weight of centuries, stale yet tinged with something faintly metallic—like the breath of history itself.
They stepped through, torches cutting into the black.
The chamber beyond opened wide, larger than anything they had passed through so far, carved with the precision of master builders long dead. Vaulted ceilings soared high overhead, ribbed with stone arches etched with the sigils of the Teutonic Order. Flickering torchlight caught on gilded surfaces—shields mounted in alcoves, chalices encrusted with jewels, coins and relics piled in niches like offerings left behind.
It wasn’t just a burial vault. It was a treasure hall.
At the centre rose a raised dais, steps leading up to a great stone altar. Unlike the treasures scattered along the walls, the altar was stark, geometric, its surface polished as if kept clean long after the world above had forgotten it. Upon it lay a single object: a shard of jagged stone, faintly luminous, its light soft but undeniable.
It pulsed like a heartbeat, casting pale reflections across the chamber.
Lara stopped at the base of the dais, her breath catching.
“There it is…” she whispered. Her eyes shone with awe. “The shard.”
Everyone else stared, the silence heavy, reverent. Even hardened soldiers like Price and Soap seemed momentarily struck by the sight.
“Bloody hell,” Soap murmured. “All this gold, all these treasures… and yet they guarded that.”
Lara nodded slowly, her torch lowering to her side. “Because they knew everything else was worthless beside it.”
Lara drew in a steadying breath, her boots echoing softly as she climbed the steps of the dais. The air seemed to grow heavier, vibrating faintly, as if the very chamber was holding its breath. Torchlight shimmered across the jagged fragment resting on the altar, its glow throbbing gently like a heartbeat.
She reached out and lifted it with both hands. The shard was cool against her skin yet thrummed with an energy.
Carefully, Lara slipped it into her pack, the glow fading until it was swallowed by shadow. She turned, her face alight with both triumph and relief.
“We’re halfway, gentlemen,” she said, her voice steady but carrying a note of awe. “Three down, three to go.”
Soap gave a low whistle. Jonah clapped her shoulder with a grin. Even Price allowed himself the faintest of smiles.
But as they looked around at the chamber, filled with treasure left untouched for centuries, the mood shifted. The silence pressed in once more. The black crosses of the Teutonic Order loomed from the walls like watchful eyes, and for all the gold and relics around them, only the shard had truly mattered.
The race wasn’t over. The real test was still ahead. Somewhere out there, the remaining shards were waiting… and others were hunting them too.

Chapter Text

While Lara, Price, and the others descended into the catacombs, the world above buzzed with nervous energy.
The museum basement had turned into a makeshift archaeological command post. The director had ordered the museum locked and ‘closed for maintenance’.
Though the air above ground was fresher, there was a strange heaviness to it — as if the centuries-old stones beneath them exhaled secrets into the walls. Even the basement’s lights flickered every now and then, reluctant to illuminate what had just been disturbed.
The museum staff began unpacking portable lights, cameras, tripods, and specimen trays while the faint smell of dust drifted from the freshly exposed tunnel below.
Dr Wagner moved from one wall to the next, fingers tracing the carvings near the new passage.
“Remarkable… truly remarkable,” he kept murmuring, eyes wide with scholarly awe.
One of the younger curators crossed himself quietly before stepping back from the wall, unnerved by the knightly symbols half-swallowed by shadow.
“This discovery must be reported immediately,” said the museum director, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “Do you realise what this could mean for—”
“No one knows about this until they return,” warned Ghost, jerking his head down the catacomb tunnel.
The director blinked at him, startled by the soldier’s intensity.
“This is my museum—”
Ida stepped in smoothly before the situation could escalate.
“When they return, you can make all the calls you want,” she said, her tone firm but kind. “For now, we need to keep this contained. Please.”
The director hesitated, torn between indignation and unease. But it was Dr Wagner who gave him a reassuring nod.
He already figured there was more going on. Why would an archaeologist need a team of special forces soldiers to protect her, and why would his country send a team of their own to assist?
“It’s ok, the catacombs have been waiting to be discovered for nearly a thousand years, what’s a few more hours?” he reasoned calmly.
The tension broke. The director exhaled and gestured for his staff to keep working. Ghost lingered for a moment, arms folded, scanning the room like a hawk before finally stepping back.
“Coffee?” Sam offered, breaking the silence with a small, hopeful smile.
“Sure sounds good,” said Anna, returning the smile.
“Saw a nice bakery on the main street,” said Ida.
“You two want anything?” Anna asked Jack and Ghost.
“Just a plain coffee, two sugars,” said Jack.
“Simon? Maybe strudel or a cheesecake?” Anna asked teasingly.
Not many people could tease Ghost or use his real name and get away with it. Anna was at the top of a very short list.
“Just a coffee,” he said, and Anna nodded.
Anna asked Dr Wagner if he wanted anything, but he was far too preoccupied for coffee.
“Come on, boy,” Anna said to Blitz.
Blitz jumped up to follow the girls as they then made their way out of the museum.
Captain Adler and his team were still in the car park, guarding the perimeter. Adler was talking with three local police officers, the flashing lights of their patrol car painting blue stripes across the museum wall
“Coffee, anyone?” Sam asked the group.
“No, we're fine,” said Alder.
The others shook their heads, declining as well.
“Lieutenant, it might be best if you don’t go so armed, don’t want to frighten the townspeople,” Adler then said to Ida.
“Yes, sir,” said Ida in agreement.
Ida handed her rifle to one of the KSK operators. She then slipped off her vest, but kept her sidearm holstered discreetly beneath her jacket.
The three women and Blitz walked up the street toward the small town square. Church bells tolled somewhere in the distance — a ghostly reminder of the very ruins being unearthed below.
They found the bakery easily enough — a narrow corner shop with old timber beams, lace curtains, and the faint smell of cinnamon and fresh bread spilling out into the street.
While Ida waited outside with Blitz, Anna and Sam stepped inside.
The décor of the bakery looked frozen in time.
The wooden counter, the brass cash register, even the faded wallpaper made Anna feel oddly at home, like she’d stepped back into her own century.
The scent of coffee, sugar, and baked apples filled the air. Anna trailed her fingers along a glass display case filled with pastries — so ordinary, so peaceful.
Anna and Sam stepped up to the counter and placed their orders — coffees for everyone, a selection of pastries and slices of rich, assorted cakes. Sam also ordered some sandwiches for Lara and the others for when they returned.
The kindly woman behind the counter wrapped the cakes and pastries neatly in paper and string, her German chatter filling the cosy space.
As they waited outside for the sandwiches and coffee to be made, Blitz lay at Anna’s feet, tail thumping lazily as he watched passersby with alert curiosity.
“So…” Sam began after a pause, lowering her voice a little. “Is it really that different? You know… from back then?”
Anna glanced at Ida, then smiled faintly.
“Some things are still the same. Some things are very different,” she said thoughtfully.
Her eyes followed two women jogging past in tight running gear and earbuds. “We didn’t dress like that for exercise.”
Ida just smirked, and Sam giggled.
“Phones in your pockets, microwaved food, films in colour, the freedom to go wherever I please… It’s a lot to take in. But I don’t have to live with the threat of bombs falling on my house anymore. That alone makes this world worth it,” said Anna.
Sam nodded, her curiosity burning, but her respect was stronger. There would be time for more questions later.
When the food and coffee were ready, the three of them gathered the paper bags and coffee trays. Blitz trotted proudly ahead, tail wagging like he was leading the way home.
Adler spotted them, laden with treats, and waved two of his KSK men over to help.
Back in the basement, the rich aroma of coffee cut through the lingering must of stone and dust. Paper cups and cake boxes were passed around.
Anna handed Ghost one of the cake boxes with a spark of mischief in her eyes.
“For you,” she said sweetly.
It was like watching a mouse offer a treat to a lion. Ghost stared at her for a long moment, then silently accepted it. Ida and Jack exchanged grins, trying not to laugh as Ghost peeled the lid back to reveal a slice of Bavarian chocolate cake.
Blitz got his own treat too — a chunk of plain sponge that he devoured in seconds, licking the crumbs from his muzzle to the sound of everyone’s laughter.
It wasn’t long before the sound of boots echoed from the stairwell.
Lara, Price, Soap, and the others emerged from the catacombs — dirt-streaked, sweat-soaked, and carrying the air of hard-won triumph.
Sam and Anna hurried forward with sandwiches and bottles of water, which were accepted with grateful nods.
“You look like you crawled out of a grave,” Sam said.
“Not far off,” Soap muttered, taking a long drink of water.
“Booby-traps to hell and back,” Price growled as he sat down with a sigh, his voice rough.
“Yeah, trap chambers, a bloody spike pit, and one poor bastard who didn’t make it,” added Gaz, rubbing the back of his neck.
Anna's eyes widened, and she exchanged a look with Jack. Trent leaned back and sipped at his water
"Not a fan of ancient security systems, I'll admit," he said, softly.
“So?” Sam asked quietly, eyes wide as Lara and the others had eaten their food.
Lara just smiled faintly and patted her pack — the faint hum of energy from within seemed to answer for her.
“We found it,” she said softly. “It’s time to go.”
Price was thinking the same thing; there was no reason to stick around.
“Alright, let’s move out,” ordered Price, his tone all business.
Dr Wagner, still surrounded by his notes and camera crew, stepped forward.
“Lady Croft, leaving so soon? There’s so much more here — the carvings, the inscriptions! We’ve only begun to uncover it,” he exclaimed.
Lara offered him a tired but genuine smile.
“It’s not mine to claim, Doctor. It belongs to you.”
She quickly described the chambers and the traps they had found, and detailed the treasure vault.
“Did you find what you came for?” he asked at last, curiosity burning in his eyes.
Lara was hesitant to answer, but she knew the man already suspected something, and her immediate departure only added to that.
“I did,” she said simply.
“Perhaps one day, you’ll tell me what it was,” he said gently.
“When the time’s right,” Lara promised.
Dr Wagner smiled, satisfied for now.
“Then at least allow me to ensure you’re properly credited for this discovery. It’s a remarkable find.”
Lara inclined her head in gratitude. “Thank you, Doctor. And be careful down there — the knights weren’t fond of visitors.”
With that, she rejoined Price and the others. The team gave their final goodbyes and left the museum.
The engines were already running when they reached the vehicles. Within minutes, the convoy rolled out of Hohenfeld.
At the airfield, Lord Reeve’s jet waited for them as promised. After firm handshakes with Adler and the other KSKs, Price, Lara and the team climbed aboard.
The aircraft lifted smoothly into the sky, banking west toward England.
By the time they touched down, the world outside was draped in twilight. The ride from the airfield to Croft Manor was silent, the exhaustion of victory mingling with the weight of what they had unearthed. As the gates loomed ahead, they caught the glint of rifles and the silhouettes of soldiers.
One of them approached, his posture crisp.
“John,” the man greeted through the now open vehicle window.
Price arched an eyebrow. “Brad.”
The soldier turned to Lara, sitting across from Price, offering a polite nod.
“Lady Croft, I’m Captain Bradley Weaver. My unit’s been assigned to your security detail. Orders from Lord Reeve and General Stratton.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Lara said, her voice calm but appreciative.
Weaver stepped aside, signalling for the gates to open. The convoy rolled up the long drive, tyres crunching over the gravel until the manor came into view — its windows glowing warmly against the night.
Winston was waiting on the steps, his composure as unshakable as ever.
“Welcome home, milady,” he said with a slight bow.
“Thank you, Winston,” Lara replied with a tired smile.
Inside, the team wasted no time. Lara and Jonah took the newly acquired shard into the manor’s vault, where the first two shards rested.
As Lara placed the third beside them, the faint hum of energy filled the chamber. The shards trembled, resonating with each other.
Jonah’s eyes widened. “They’re reacting to each other, more so”
Lara could only nod in agreement.
Dinner soon followed — warm food, laughter, and a rare sense of peace. Later, gathered in the sitting room, Jonah echoed her words from before in the Teutonic treasure room.
“So, we’re halfway.”
“Yes,” Lara said softly. “Halfway.”
Her eyes, though proud, carried the weight of what still lay ahead.
Moments later, Winston entered quietly.
“A call for you, milady,” he said.
Lara excused herself and made her way to the manor’s comms room. She picked up the phone, the soft static of the line cleared, and a familiar voice of Dr Isabel Serrano came through.
A former protégé of her father’s and one of South America’s most respected archaeologists, Dr Serrano was as brilliant as she was relentless — a woman who’d traded dusty university halls for jungle expeditions and ancient ruins.
“Lara, my dear, how are you?” she asked.
“I’m good, Isabel,” said Lara.
“Lara, I’ll come straight to the point. I think I have found what you and your father have been searching for,” said Serrano.
Lara's breath hitched in her chest, her eyes widening.
“Really?” she asked.
“Yes, your father’s research was correct,” said Serrano.
Her voice on the phone carried that same sharp confidence Lara remembered, steady even through the crackle of the line. If Serrano said she’d found the location of the next shard, Lara knew it wasn’t speculation. It was fact.
“But Lara, someone else is searching as well; they are very organised and well funded, you need to get down here as soon as possible,” Serrano warned.
Lara didn’t need to be told twice. She thanked the archaeologist, promised to call her back with their travel arrangements, then hung up.
Lara sat back in her seat, looking at the world map on the wall above her.
Peru was the next destination.
Somewhere in its dark and dangerous jungles, the next shard waited to be found.
Lara and the team just needed to get to it first…

Chapter Text

The first light of dawn spilt over the misty fields of Surrey, gilding Croft Manor in soft gold. Inside and out, the great house was already alive with quiet purpose. Doors opened and closed, boots echoed across stone floors, and the low murmur of voices filled the crisp morning air.
Bags were packed, weapons checked, and supplies loaded into the waiting SUVs that idled on the gravel drive.
Lara moved briskly through the courtyard, her hair catching the morning light and saw across the lawn, Anna was laughing softly as she threw a ball for Blitz, getting rid of some of his energy before their long flight.
The shepherd bounded after it with enthusiasm, his claws scrabbling on the gravel before triumphantly returning with the prize.
Lara smiled, then walked over.
“You know,” Lara said, “you don’t have to come with us. It might get dangerous where we’re going."
Anna tossed the ball again for Blitz to chase, her eyes bright.
“Danger doesn’t scare me,” she said simply. “I lived through a war. This can’t be worse than that.”
Lara hesitated, then nodded — remembering how Anna had kept calm through the firefight in the Australian gorge.
“Besides,” Anna added with a small grin, “I’ve never been to South America. Seems like a waste to miss the chance.
That earned a quiet laugh from Lara. Blitz trotted back over and dropped the ball at Lara’s boots, tail wagging expectantly. She stooped, tossed it, and watched him race off into the morning light.
Jonah and Price appeared from the manor steps, packs slung over their shoulders.
“We’re all set, Lara,” Jonah called.
Price gave a short nod. “Bird’s prepped and waiting.”
Lara exhaled, glancing back at the manor — the only home she’d ever truly known.
“Alright then,” she said, her voice steady. “Let’s move out."
Anna whistled for Blitz, and he bounded straight into the rear of one of the SUVs. Doors slammed, engines rumbled to life, and the convoy rolled slowly toward the gates.
Captain Weaver and his SAS security team were already there. Weaver stepped forward as Price rolled down his window.
“Hope you don’t mind house-sitting, Brad,” Price said with a grin.
“We both know to appreciate the quiet gigs, John,” Weaver assured, returning the grin.
His face then grew serious again.
“So, anything I should be made aware of? We expecting a visit from Orlov’s men?” Weaver asked.
Price exchanged a look with Lara, sitting next to him. He didn’t want to lie, but Weaver needed to be told something.
“Just stay alert, there are items here that can’t fall into the wrong hands,” said Price.
Weaver understood and nodded. That was good enough for him.
“We’ll make sure no one disturbs your home, Lady Croft,” Weaver promised Lara.
“Thank you, Captain, and please don’t hesitate to ask my butler Winston if you need anything,” said Lara.
“Will do, ma’am, appreciate that,” said Weaver.
With a last nod between Price and Weaver, the wrought-iron gates of Croft Manor swung open.
The SUVs rolled out onto the road, bound for the airfield and a continent half a world away.
The airfield hummed with restrained energy as they arrived.  
Instead of Lord Reeve’s usual sleek private jet, a hulking C-130J Super Hercules dominated the tarmac, its engines ticking in the cool morning air.
Three jungle-green Range Rovers stood ready beside it, fitted with bull bars, roof racks, winches, and heavy off-road tyres.
Lord Reeve emerged from the hangar, immaculate as always despite the wind tugging at his coat.
“Good morning, everyone,” he greeted, his voice warm but with an edge of purpose.
“Hello, Alaric,” said Anna, smiling as she stepped forward.
“Anna, my dear,” he said, embracing her warmly. “It’s good to see you again — and you too, Blitz.”
He knelt to give the German Shepherd a fond scratch behind the ears.
Gesturing toward the vehicles, Reeve continued.
“Thought you’d need proper transport this time — armour plating, reinforced glass, shortwave comms, and modified suspension,”
Soap let out a low whistle.
“Now that’s what I call a company car,” he said, exchanging grins with Gaz.
“Could come in handy,” said Price and Ghost nodded in agreement.
Reeve’s face shifted slightly.
“Captain, Lady Croft — there’s been a development,” he said.
They all followed him into the hangar, where a makeshift operations table was set up beneath the humming lights. A suited man stood to greet them, rising from his seat as they entered.
“David,” he said evenly.
“Sir,” Trent replied, straightening.
“This,” Reeve announced, “is Deputy Director Malcolm Stroud — MI6."
Stroud gave a polite smile as he extended his hand. “Lady Croft, Captain Price — an honour. I’ve heard quite a bit about your recent… adventures.”
“Mostly classified, I hope,” Price said dryly, shaking his hand.
“Only the interesting parts,” Stroud replied with a hint of amusement before getting down to business.
“We’ve located Orlov."
“Where?” asked Price.
“In Peru,” said Reeve.
Lara’s eyes widened, and her heart skipped a beat.
“This intelligence solid, sir?” Trent asked.
“So untrusting as always, David,” said a female voice, with a Russian accent.
Everyone turned. Two figures approached from the shadows of the hangar doors — a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark field jacket, his expression carved from stone, and beside him a petite, blonde woman with sharp blue eyes and the kind of confidence that came from surviving dangerous company.
“Yelena?” Trent asked with surprise.
“Everyone, this is Major Viktor Sokolov and Captain Yelena Barinova, GRU and SVR. I see you and Agent Trent have already met, Captain,” said Reeve.
“We’ve crossed paths,” said Trent.
The beautiful Russian agent gave him a teasing smile at this. Lara arched an eyebrow, and a quick spark of jealousy pulsed through her, which she quickly shook off.
Barinova laid a sleek tablet on the table and tapped the screen. A grainy surveillance photo filled the display, showing Orlov sitting at an outdoor restaurant, surrounded by unfamiliar faces.
“This was taken in Lima,” she explained. “Our asset risked quite a bit to get this close.”
“Who are the others?” asked Price.
Reeve leaned forward. “The woman is Victoria Hargrave, CEO of Hargrave Global. She inherited control after her brother’s… unfortunate death five years ago."
“The big guy is Mason Kreel, her bodyguard, the skinny one is Preston Vale, her assistant, the third male—” Barinova said, “—we believe to be Professor Calderón, a local archaeologist. Former museum curator, connections in Peru’s Ministry of Culture.”
“We assume it’s not a coincidence they are meeting in Peru; it’s more than likely Hargrave is the other party that is after what you are seeking, Lady Croft,” Reeve reasoned.
The group fell into a tense silence. The quiet hum of the Hercules’ engines outside seemed suddenly louder.
“Well,” said Price, adjusting his cap, “looks like Peru’s going to be lively."
Lara glanced at the photo again, her jaw setting with quiet determination.
“Then we’d better make sure we get there first,” she said
Deputy Director Stroud was the first to depart, offering quick handshakes and polite wishes of good luck before climbing into the waiting black sedan. The vehicle pulled away, its taillights fading into the morning haze.
“I’ve arranged flight plans and everything; you should have no problems or issues,” said Reeve.
“Thank you,” said Lara appreciatively.
Once the team’s gear, weapons and bags had been loaded into the Land Rovers, the Hercules’ engines were spooled up, their deep thrum vibrating the air.
The Land Rovers were then winched aboard, and the loading ramp clanged shut behind them.
As everyone began boarding through the side hatch, Price lingered at Reeve’s wave, joining him and the two Russian agents near the hangar doors.
Barinova’s expression was all business now, her earlier smirk gone.
“Captain Price,” she said evenly, “you never saw us. We were never here, and this—” she gestured between herself and Sokolov “—is not an official operation."
Price gave a small nod, reading the unspoken message beneath her words.
She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “If you find Orlov… take him out."
Sokolov finally spoke, his tone rough, his accent thick with authority.
“He has many friends in Moscow—powerful ones. But he is no friend of Russia. You understand?"
Price held his gaze for a long moment, the weight of what was being asked sinking in. He glanced at Reeve, who gave a small, approving nod.
“Understood,” Price said simply.
Barinova studied him for a heartbeat, then extended her hand. Price shook it — a firm, wordless agreement passing between them.
“Good hunting, Captain,” she said.
“And to you,” Price replied.
Reeve clasped Price’s shoulder. “Take care, John,” he said quietly.
Price nodded once more, then turned and strode toward the open passenger hatch, his boots echoing across the hangar floor. The Hercules’ engines roared to full power, the air thick with diesel and wind.
As the hatch was sealed shut behind him, the great aircraft began to roll, then lifted off into the open sky.
The C-130 was somewhat different to a normal Hercules. Sectioned off from the cargo area was a surprisingly comfy passenger cabin with all the amenities, including a galley stocked with drinks, snacks and ready-made meals.
Everyone was settled into the plush seats, relaxing for the long flight.
Lara sat at a fold-down table, maps and her father’s research spread out over it. Jonah sat down with her, knowing the look in her eye.
“So this Hargrave, she’s the one after the shards as well?” he asked, voicing what had been revealed in the hanger.
“It looks like it,” said Lara.
Hargrave, along with Orlov, must be the people Isabel warned her about, Lara mused to herself.
“Think she has found any?, The ones your father hasn't managed to narrow down?” Jonah asked.
Lara’s eyes widened, and she fixed him with a concerned look. That hadn’t even occurred to her.
“I really hope not, Jonah,” she finally answered.
The plane droned on, crossing the Atlantic, the world below hidden by an ocean of clouds.
Some hours later, one of the pilots came back to speak with Price and Lara.
“Change of plan,” he announced. “We were scheduled to land and refuel, but Lord Reeve has arranged a mid-air top-up. Should save us a few hours.”
“Good,” said Price, nodding. “Less time for anyone to catch our trail."
Anna, who’d been half-listening from her seat, frowned, thought she must have misheard.
“We’re going to… refuel in the air?” she asked, incredulous.
Jack and Price exchanged grins.
“Never seen one?” asked the pilot, and Anna shook her head.
Half an hour later, Anna stood in the cockpit with Sam, who wanted to see too.
The view from the glass canopy was breathtaking — the endless blue of the Atlantic stretching forever beneath them.
A shadow passed over the plane. The pilot pointed ahead.
“There she is."
Through the shimmering air, a KC-135 Stratotanker emerged, gleaming silver in the sunlight. It drifted closer, its presence commanding, serene — like a leviathan gliding through the sky.
The Hercules adjusted its speed, engines growling as it slid into position below the tanker. Anna gripped the back of the co-pilot’s chair, heart pounding.
The long, thin refuelling boom lowered, aligning perfectly. The two aircraft inched together until they locked.
“Contact,” said the pilot calmly.
A hiss followed, soft and steady. The airframe shivered as fuel began to flow — a silent lifeline suspended between the two giants.
Outside, the tanker held steady against the wind, its silhouette outlined against the clouds. Then, just as smoothly, the boom detached.
“Refuelling complete,” said the pilot, giving Anna and Sam a grin.
The KC-135 banked away, disappearing into the blue. Anna watched it go, awe still written across her face.
When she and Sam returned to their seats, Ida glanced up with a knowing grin.
“Pretty cool, right?” she asked.
Anna nodded, still processing what she’d seen.
“Incredible,” she said softly.
Soap chuckled from across the aisle.
“Aye, lass — welcome to the modern world,” he said with a smile.
A little while later, as Anna sat beside Jack, Blitz curled at their feet, his head resting across her boots, Sam slid into the seat opposite them, notebook and camera in hand, eyes bright but hesitant.
“Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions about… your past?” she ventured.
Anna glanced at Jack, who just shrugged lightly.
“Of course,” she said.
“But not on camera,” Jack added, his tone gentle but firm.
Sam nodded quickly, tucking it into her bag. She flipped open her notebook, pages filled with scribbles, half-formed questions, and highlighted names. For a moment, she seemed unsure where to begin.
She started with simple things. Anna’s childhood, life before the war, the small details that helped her imagine what that world was like.
Anna answered patiently, her voice soft, the memories distant but vivid.
Then Sam hesitated, glancing down at her notes before speaking.
“So… your parents. Were they…?” She trailed off, unable to finish.
Anna’s expression didn’t harden, but her eyes grew still.
“Nazis?” she finished for her.
Sam looked stricken and nodded.
“No,” Anna said firmly, her voice quiet but unwavering. “My parents despised them.”
The engines hummed on, filling the silence as she continued.
“My father owned a small factory. He employed people the Party called undesirable — Jews, Poles, anyone who needed work. When the Gestapo found out, they made an example of him.”
Sam’s throat tightened.
“My mother was British,” Anna went on, her words slow, deliberate. “When the war began, they called her a traitor. She was sent to a detention camp. She never came back.”
Jack reached over, taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing the back of her knuckles. She didn’t look at him, just gave the faintest nod.
Sam sat frozen, the weight of the revelation sinking in.
“I… I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Anna managed a small, weary smile. “It happened a lifetime ago now,” she said softly. “But for me… It’s still only been a few years.”
That broke whatever words Sam had left. She closed her notebook, the questions inside suddenly meaningless.
The rest of the cabin had fallen silent. Everyone was pretending to be occupied, but every ear had caught the story.
Ida then gently took Anna’s arm. “Come,” she said softly. “Let’s get some air — or as much as we can up here.”
Anna nodded, following her toward the rear of the cabin. Jack watched them go, worry flickering behind his eyes.
Sam looked helplessly, looking at Lara for help, who could only give a sympathetic look and stayed silent.
“I didn’t mean to—”
Jack met Sam’s gaze and gave a small, understanding nod.
“She needs to talk about it,” he said quietly.
Jack went to comfort Anna. Her eyes were misty, and Ida was stroking her back gently.
“You ok?” he asked.
Anna assured him that she was, giving him a small smile. Jack insisted she get some rest. Anna didn’t argue, curling up in one of the plane’s small bunks.
The flight carried on, the heavy mood slowly giving way to laughter, quiet conversation, and the rustle of meal trays.
Lara pored over her father’s research tirelessly. She wished she knew exactly where the temple was, but they couldn’t risk contacting Dr Serrano again, not over unsecured lines. Lara would just have to wait.
While the team took turns napping in the bunks, the others read books, talked, watched movies or just watched the clouds drift by beneath the wings.
Hours passed, and soon the map on the display showed the vast sweep of South America unfolding below them.
After crossing Brazil, the landscape transformed — a seemingly endless sea of green stretching to every horizon. Rivers glinted like silver veins beneath the clouds, winding through the jungle canopy.
Anna leaned toward the window, eyes wide. “So that’s the Amazon,” she breathed. “It looks so… untamed.”
“That it is,” said Jonah, smiling faintly. “And it doesn’t take kindly to strangers.”
Anna’s eyes lingered on the jungle far below — a wilderness older than memory, shrouded in mist and mystery. Whatever melancholy she’d carried from before seemed to fade, replaced by the thrill of discovery.
The Hercules began its descent, engines throttling down as it banked low over a dusty, overgrown airstrip carved from the jungle. The landing gear thudded down, and with a rough jolt, they touched Peruvian soil.
As the engines idled, the team descended the ramp into the late afternoon sun.
The air was hot, heavy and alive.
The scent of rain-soaked earth and wildflowers filled their lungs. The jungle sang — insects droning, unseen birds calling from the canopy.
Blitz sniffed around excitedly, and his ears perked up at the animal sounds around them.
A battered jeep waited at the edge of the tarmac, and beside it stood a woman in a wide-brimmed hat, her arms folded, her smile unmistakable.
Dr Isabel Serrano looked every inch the explorer — tanned skin, dark raven hair, khaki shirt dusted with red clay. Her smile was warm, and her eyes sharp.
“Hello, Lara,” called Serrano as they approached.
“Isabel,” Lara greeted warmly, pulling her into a quick hug. “It’s been far too long.”
“Welcome to Peru,” Serrano said, turning her radiant smile on the rest of the group.
Introductions followed, handshakes and polite nods exchanged amid the whine of insects and the distant call of birds from the treeline.
Blitz, eager to meet a new friend, pressed his nose to the doctor’s hand.
“And who is this?” she asked as she crouched down to greet him.
“This is Blitz,” said Jack.
“What a handsome boy,” said Serrano, giving him a very friendly pat.
The three custom Range Rovers were offloaded from the Hercules, and their engines rumbled to life one by one.
Price and Lara climbed into Isabel’s jeep, taking the lead position as the convoy rolled out.
Behind them, the massive C-130 thundered back down the airstrip, lifting off into the open sky once more, its silhouette vanishing into the sunlit haze.
As the convoy drove down the dusty road, Lara took in the view with quiet awe.
The jungle swallowed the road ahead, vast and alive — a green world full of secrets, beauty and of course, danger..

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun burned gold across the Peruvian horizon, spilling long shadows over the winding road. Dust rose in soft plumes behind the convoy as it rumbled away from the small airfield, cutting through fields and pockets of jungle, steadily reclaiming the land.
“So the temple, you really think you’ve found it?” asked Lara, glancing at Isabel from the passenger seat of the jeep.
“I do,” Isabel replied, keeping her eyes on the narrow road as she swerved around a slow-moving bus. “I’ve uncovered old Conquistador records that mention an expedition sent by Francisco Pizarro himself. The details match what your father uncovered.”
“Pizarro?” Lara asked, intrigued. “And what happened to the expedition?”
“They never returned,” Isabel said, her tone heavy with implication.
Lara’s brow furrowed. Another group in history that might have stumbled onto something they shouldn’t have.
“Do you think they knew what the temple was guarding?” she asked.
“I doubt it. Knowing Pizarro, he was chasing gold, not mysteries.” Isabel smirked, but there was a trace of unease in her eyes.
She flicked a glance in the mirror at the Land Rovers following close behind. “You’ve come very well prepared, I must say.”
“Not my doing, Captain Price and his men have a powerful friend,” said Lara with a smirk.
Price gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgement but kept his gaze fixed out the window.
“We might need to be prepared,” he said softly.
Isabel nodded at this.
“Yes, I still haven’t found out who the other interested party is, but my sources in Lima tell me they have plenty of money to throw around,” she said.
Lara and Price exchanged looks.
“We have, it’s an American named Victoria Hargrave and a Russian arms dealer, Mikhail Orlov,” Lara revealed.
“The names aren't familiar, an arms dealer, you say?” asked Isabel, her eyebrow raised.
“A Professor Calderón is helping them,” said Lara in reply.
Isabel’s eyes narrowed and her face darkened.
“Yes, I’m acquainted with Esteban Calderón, of course, he is involved in this,” she said with a growl.
“We should get to the temple before them,” said Price.
“I understand your urgency, Captain, but the jungle is treacherous even in daylight, more so at night. Esteban knows this as well,” said Isabel firmly.
She paused to let them take in the gravity of her words before continuing.
“We’ll head off at first light tomorrow; tonight you’ll stay with my family,” she said.
Price nodded, they did need to refresh after their long flight, tired soldiers were a sure-fire way of getting killed.
In one of the trailing Land Rovers, Anna pressed closer to the window, eyes wide. “It’s beautiful here… wild, but beautiful.”
“Yeah,” said Gaz, glancing out at the thickening greenery. “Beautiful and full of things that can eat you — jaguars, anacondas, piranhas…”
Anna’s face paled slightly. Jack caught her reflection in the rear-view mirror and smiled reassuringly.
“Relax. We’ll be fine.”
He turned up the AC, and Anna and Gaz gave him a thankful look. Blitz barked as he saw a small herd of alpacas in a field by the road.
“They’re alpacas, boy,” said Jack as Gaz and Anna chuckled.
Blitz just whined, his eyes focused on the strange creatures until they were far in the distance.
The road narrowed as they entered a small rural town. Children waved from doorways as the convoy passed, the streets lined with faded colonial facades and bright murals of saints and serpents.
“Not much has changed since my grandfather’s time,” Isabel said with a smile. “The world moves on, but places like this… they stay the same.”
The vehicles rumbled over uneven cobblestones as they turned down a shaded lane bordered by palm trees and bougainvillaea.
At the end of the road stood the Serrano estate.
A sprawling, old hacienda with terracotta roofs, whitewashed walls, and a wide central courtyard surrounded by verandas.
The convoy rolled to a stop in front of the Serrano estate, engines humming low before falling silent. Warm, wood-smoke-scented air drifted toward them, carrying hints of grilled meat, herbs, and baked bread.
Beyond the gate, the hacienda’s terracotta tiles glowed in the sunset, lantern light flickering beneath the arched veranda.
Blitz hopped down first, nose twitching as he trotted ahead. From the courtyard came two dogs — a sturdy brown shepherd mix and a lighter, leaner one with clever eyes.
“Pacha, Miska — amigos!” Isabel called.
The dogs bounded up, tails wagging. Blitz stiffened for a moment, then lowered his head in greeting. After a cautious round of sniffing, the three erupted into excited barking and darted around in a blur of fur.
“Friends already,” Isabel said with a grin.
The commotion brought three men from the house — one older, his hair silvered at the temples, and two young men in work shirts and dusted boots.
“You’re here at last,” said the elder warmly, his voice rich with the local accent.
“Everyone, this is my brother Eduardo, and my nephews Carlos and Mateo,” Isabel introduced proudly.
Hands were shaken, smiles exchanged, and gear began to unload. Eduardo spoke quietly to his sister, who turned to Price.
“Captain, it would be best to move your vehicles out of sight before they attract too much curiosity,” Isabel advised.
Price nodded. “Understood.”
“Mateo, show them the way,” Eduardo ordered.
Soap and Gaz followed Mateo to the rear of the property, the sound of engines fading as they parked the Rovers behind a row of old stone stables.
“Come,” Isabel said, motioning to the rest. “Meet the family properly.”
They stepped through a wooden archway into a wide courtyard draped with bougainvillaea and flickering lanterns. The scent of cooking was stronger now, mouthwatering and warm.
“You have a beautiful home,” Sam said, spinning slowly to take it all in.
“Truly stunning,” added Anna, her eyes wide with wonder.
As Soap, Gaz and Mateo rejoined them, several women emerged from a doorway, one guiding an older woman with a cane. Her posture was regal despite her age, her dark eyes bright with intelligence.
“Welcome, welcome!” she said, her voice full of warmth.
“Everyone,” said Isabel with pride, “this is my mother, Doña Mercedes, my sister Lucía, and her daughters — Marisol and Camila.”
The introductions came with laughter and kisses on both cheeks. Marisol and Camila exchanged quick glances before giving Soap and Gaz dazzling smiles.
“Hola,” Marisol greeted playfully.
Soap cleared his throat, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. Gaz managed a polite nod, though his grin betrayed him.
When Anna was introduced, Lucía immediately spotted the ring on her hand and gasped with delight.
“Ah! You are engaged! Qué lindo!” she exclaimed.
Anna blushed furiously as she looked at Jack.
“You are a fortunate man,” said Lucia.
Jack smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m well aware.”
Light laughter erupted at this.
Doña Mercedes then clapped her hands, her bracelets chiming. “Enough standing around. You must be tired and hungry. We’ve prepared rooms for you — then we eat!”
They were shown inside through tiled halls that smelled faintly of lime and polish. The guest rooms were cool and inviting, each with carved furniture, linen curtains, and fresh flowers on the bedside tables.
After showers and clean clothes, the group reconvened in the courtyard, drawn by the glow of lanterns and the promise of dinner.
A long wooden table stretched across the courtyard, bathed in the glow of hanging lanterns that swayed gently in the evening breeze. The air shimmered with the scent of roasted meat, garlic, citrus, and wood smoke. Somewhere beyond the veranda, a guitar played a slow, lilting tune — the sound blending with laughter and the soft chatter of the Serrano family.
Lara had dined in royal halls and under temple ruins, but there was something deeply grounding about this — clay walls catching the last light, dogs weaving between chairs, and the warmth of a family that opened its arms without hesitation.
“Please, eat, eat!” Doña Mercedes declared grandly, motioning for them to sit. “You’ve come so far. You must be starving!”
The table was a feast for the senses — platters of pollo a la brasa, lomo saltado, golden empanadas, bowls of seasoned rice, and vibrant salads that shimmered under the lantern light.
Blitz and the other dogs were given their own bowls, tails thumping happily as they dug in.
Glasses of chicha morada were poured — sweet, purple, and cold — and soon conversation bloomed as easily as the tropical flowers on the walls.
Eduardo, pipe-voiced and broad-shouldered, leaned toward Price, revealing he was retired military. Within minutes, the two were swapping stories of discipline, survival, and near misses — laughter punctuated by knowing silence.
At the other end, Carlos and Jack were deep in talk about rock climbing routes in Australia. Lara and Jonah, meanwhile, spoke quietly with Isabel about the temple and the best path through the jungle — their plates half-forgotten as theories took over.
Marisol, leaning forward with a teasing smile, turned her attention to Soap. “So, your name is… Soap? That’s unusual.”
Soap chuckled nervously. “Aye, well, it’s a nickname. Long story.”
Her eyes glittered. “You are from Scotland, yes? I have never met a man from Scotland before.”
Soap’s face flushed beneath the lantern glow. “Then I hope I’m representin’ us well.”
Ghost, who had been silent, more interested in the food, snorted, and Soap threw him a glare.
Gaz, watching the exchange with amusement, suddenly stiffened as Camila brushed her fingers along his arm.
“And you, Kyle,” she said, eyes gleaming with mischief, “how do you like our country so far?”
“Uh… It’s amazing,” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual.
Anna and Ida tried and failed to contain their laughter. Lucia scolded her daughters in rapid-fire Spanish, though her smile betrayed her.
“These girls,” she sighed, shaking her head. “They forget soldiers are dangerous.”
Price raised his glass without missing a beat. “Oh, we’re only dangerous when someone steals the last empanada.”
That broke the tension entirely. Laughter burst from every side of the table, even Doña Mercedes joining in with a delighted clap.
“Then eat!” she exclaimed.
The night rolled on in warmth and light. Plates emptied, candles burned low, and the guitar outside slowed to a lazy rhythm.
The team lingered in the courtyard, now gathered in a cosy sitting area, the jungle humming beyond the walls like a distant heartbeat.
Eduardo passed around a small box of cigars. Price accepted one, lighting it with quiet ritual, and the two men shared a companionable silence — smoke curling into the amber air.
As Lara sat beside, Trent knew the look in her eyes; the moment had come.
“So… Yelena?” she asked softly.
Trent sighed, already bracing for it. “It’s not what you think. We were after the same mark in Warsaw, that’s all. Nothing happened.”
Lara studied him for a beat, then nodded. “Alright.”
She didn’t push it further.
Before long, chairs scraped back, and farewells for the night were exchanged. Lanterns flickered lower as one by one, the guests drifted toward their rooms.
Blitz was already curled up in the courtyard, asleep in a heap with Pacha and Miska. Jack paused at the doorway, smiling softly before taking Anna’s hand. Together, they made their way inside.
The estate settled into silence — the whisper of wind through palm fronds, the distant hum of insects, and the occasional soft bark from the dogs dreaming under the stars. Soap and Ida took first watch on the veranda, their quiet murmurs blending with the chirp of night creatures.
By dawn, the hush of night gave way to motion.
The house came alive again — boots scuffing against tiles, voices calling in Spanish and English, the smell of coffee and fried plantains drifting through the air.
After a hearty breakfast, the team geared up.
Anna stood in the sunlight, adjusting her khaki shirt and tightening her boot laces.
“Am I ready?” she asked.
Jack gave her a grin and a thumbs-up
“You look like you’ve done this your whole life,” said Sam.
“You're a natural adventurer, mi querida,” Isabel added warmly, slinging her own pack over her shoulder.
Carlos joined her, already checking over maps and gear. The Land Rovers were brought around and loaded up.
Blitz hopped up eagerly between Anna and Ida, tail wagging as if sensing another adventure ahead.
“Good luck, and stay safe,” Eduardo called from the veranda. The rest of the Serranos waved as the convoy rolled down the drive.
They left the town behind, winding east along a narrow two-lane road. Traffic was sparse — dusty trucks, rusted cars, and bright buses painted with saints and slogans.
The road soon turned to dirt, then mud, until finally it became no more than a track swallowed by the jungle.
“This is as far as we go,” Isabel announced as the Rovers came to a stop.
Everyone piled out, stretching limbs and grabbing packs. The heat was thick and humming with insects. Price gave the treeline a wary look.
Vests were checked, ensuring that they had enough spare mags and grenades, then weapons were inspected and loaded. The team had brought an assortment of assault rifles, SMGs, shotguns, and sidearms.
As Ida slung her sniper rifle across her back, Soap ran his hand over a heavy case in one of the Rovers containing a M250 light machine gun, but Price gave him a look.
“Sorry, Soap. We’re trekking, not storming Normandy,” he said.
Soap sighed dramatically. “Breaks a man’s heart, sir.”
Price ignored him, handing Trent a rifle and sidearm.
“Can you handle those, Mr Bond? Or do you need a laser watch?” Ghost drawled.
Trent smirked, swiftly unloading and reloading his rifle in one smooth motion.
“I’ll manage. The new double O watches are still in testing,” he quipped, earning a round of chuckles.
Lara slipped her pistols into their holsters, then unpacked her bow, the string humming faintly as she tested the tension.
“Some things never fail,” she said quietly.
She picked up her arrow-filled quiver and then slung it and her bow over her shoulder.
Once again, Lord Reeve’s people had provided spare tactical vests. Anna and Trent accepted one, Lara, Isabel, Jonah, and Carlos waved them off, but Sam chose to take one.
As Anna and Sam were assisted with their vests, Jack put Blitz’s canine vest on. Blitz grumbled but relented.
“Alright, mate. You’re part of the team,” he murmured, patting the dog’s flank.
The vest was equipped with pockets, and Jack slipped Blitz’s water bottle into one as well as some spare rifle mags.
Fully geared, they set off. The air grew heavier under the canopy, the path little more than an overgrown scar of mud and roots. Carlos and Jonah lead the way, hacking away at branches and vines with machetes as Isabel followed, GPS in hand.
They crested a ridge, the view opening to a deep green valley below. The sound of running water echoed faintly in the distance.
Anna and Sam took swigs from their canteens, and Isabel gave them a warning look.
“Careful, you need to stay hydrated but conserve your water, no taps to fill up at out here,” she said.
They continued downward, the jungle thickening, the air filled with the scent of wet earth.
Then Blitz froze. His ears perked, muscles stiff. A low growl rumbled from his throat. Price immediately raised a hand, halting the group.
The only sound was the steady drone of cicadas and the rasp of their own breathing.
“Eyes up,” Price murmured. “We’re not alone.”
With hearts hammering and breaths held, weapons were snapped up as the jungle suddenly came alive with movement all around them…