David Lancaster had never known struggle. Born into a dynasty of immeasurable wealth, his life was one of luxury beyond imagination. His father, the architect of Lancaster Industries, ensured that no challenge was ever beyond his reach.
But that was the problem—nothing was ever out of his reach.
He had climbed Everest at twenty, yet he never felt the true thrill of the mountain. An army of Sherpas carried his gear, heated tents awaited him at every stop, and a personal medic ensured he never felt the real bite of the cold.
He had dived into the Mariana Trench, but inside a cutting-edge submersible, piloted by a seasoned expert. No real danger. No real fear.
Even when he trained with elite mercenaries, it was a simulation. A game where he always had a safety net, where his survival was never really in question.
He was tired of it.
David wanted something raw. Something where he decided whether he lived or died.
So when an opportunity arose—a private aerial survey over the Atlantic with a detour over the Bermuda Triangle—he took it. No bodyguards. No handlers. Just him, his pilot, and the unknown.
It happened fast.
One moment, the skies were clear. The ocean stretched endlessly below.
Then, the storm appeared out of nowhere.
Dark clouds consumed the sky. The wind roared. The helicopter trembled under nature's fury.
The pilot barely had time to react.
"Sir, we need to turn ba—"
A bolt of lightning struck. The world spun. The alarms screamed, metal groaned, and gravity pulled them toward the sea.
Then—impact.
Then—darkness.
David's consciousness drifted back slowly.
Pain throbbed through his body. The scent of salt and damp earth filled his nostrils. He forced his eyes open, blinking against the harsh sunlight.
He was alive.
The helicopter was gone. The pilot—gone.
No wreckage. No signs of civilization. Just the wild jungle around him.
For the first time in his life, there was no safety net.
He smiled.
Despite the pain, despite the uncertainty—this was what he had been looking for.
His mind switched to survival mode. Water first. Shelter next. Food later.
He followed the distant sound of a stream, moving through the dense foliage. When he found the water, he drank deeply, savoring the taste of raw survival.
The jungle was alive with unfamiliar sounds. He climbed a tree, securing himself in the branches for the night. No silk sheets. No bodyguards.
Just the wilderness.
And him.
Hunger clawed at his stomach as the morning sun rose.
David had hunted before, but always in controlled environments. Guides had ensured a clean kill.
Here, he had only his instincts.
He fashioned a crude spear from a fallen branch, tracked small animal prints near the stream, and waited. Hours passed.
Then—a kill. A small boar-like creature. The struggle was messy, but he emerged victorious. He built a fire, cooked the meat, and forced himself to eat.
It tasted awful.
But it was the most satisfying meal of his life.
He had earned it.
As the day waned, he ventured deeper into the jungle. He needed to understand this place—to own it.
Then, he heard something.
A deep, guttural roar.
His body tensed. He moved carefully, pushing past the dense foliage.
And that's when he saw her.
A girl.
Wild, untamed, fierce. Her hair was wild, her skin streaked with dirt and paint. She wore animal hides, her muscles lean and strong.
She wasn't just standing there.
She was fighting.
A massive bear-like beast lunged at her, claws swiping through the air. But she didn't run. She countered.
Ducking beneath the beast's strike, she drove a sharpened bone dagger into its side. The creature roared in fury, swinging again.
She leapt back, agile as a predator, her eyes locked onto the beast.
David's heart pounded.
He had spent his life seeking a real adventure.
And now, he had found it.
He took a step forward, ready to intervene.
Then, she glanced at him. Just for a second.
Her piercing gaze met his.
And in that moment, he realized—he was not the predator here.
He was just a spectator.
The real adventure was only beginning.