Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
NOAH
The briefing tent smells like dust and diesel. I shift in my seat, ankle throbbing beneath the tightly laced boot. The Commander stands at the front, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like he’s measuring each of us for a coffin.
“This is a civilian extraction,” he says, voice clipped. “Border town, roughly twenty clicks east. Intel suggests possible insurgent movement in the area. We go in fast, we get them out, we get home.”
I glance at Sergeant Mitchell, who nods slightly. He’s ready. The rest of the team looks tense but focused. Then the Commander drops the hammer.
“Major Stevens will be joining your unit.”
I blink. Jessica?
“She’ll serve as lead medic,” Marsh continues. “You’ll follow Captain Reyes’ orders, Major. No exceptions.”
“Roger, Sir,” she says with conviction in her voice.
I feel every eye in the room shift toward me. I keep my face neutral, but inside, something twists. She’s capable, more than, but this mission isn’t clean. It’s not textbook, it’s the kind that could go sideways very quickly.
The Commander finishes the briefing and dismisses us. I limp out into the sun, the heat slapping me in the face. I spot Jessica near the edge of the yard, checking her gear. She looks up as I approach.
“You’re on the team,” I say.
She nods, eyes unreadable. “Yep.”
“You sure you’re ready for this?”
“As sure as you are,” she replies, voice steady.
I pause, watching her. “Just… follow orders. This isn’t the time to improvise.”
Her jaw tightens. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
She turns back to her pack, and I walk away before I say something I’ll regret.
The gear-up is quiet. Soldiers move with practiced efficiency, checking weapons, loading supplies. Jessica stands beside Rachel, organizing her med kit. I catch her glancing at me once, but she doesn’t say anything.
Sergeant Mitchell walks over. “You good, Captain?”
I nod. “As good as I’m gonna be.”
He eyes my ankle. “You sure you should be going?”
I shrug. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
He doesn’t push. He knows better.
We roll out just after 1600. The sun hangs low, casting long shadows across the sand. I ride up front, rifle across my lap, eyes scanning the horizon. Jessica sits in the back, silent, staring out the window.
The convoy kicks up dust as we move, the hum of engines filling the air. I feel the tension in my chest, the kind that settles in before something breaks.
I glance back at Jessica and see her scanning the area from her side. She shows no nervousness, her face is unreadable, and that both scares me and turns me on. I don’t know which should scare me more, the fact that she could be hurt in this mission, or the fact that I’m feeling something for her.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I need to focus on the job ahead, everything else can be dealt with later.
The border town seems deserted. There are crumbling walls, shattered windows, silence thick enough to choke on. We roll in slow, eyes scanning every alley, every rooftop. The civilians are supposed to be holed up in a school building near the center. Intel said minimal resistance.
Intel was wrong.
The first shot cracks through the air like a whip. Then another. Then chaos.
“Contact left!” Sergeant Mitchell shouts.
I grab the radio. “All units, take cover and return fire!”
Sergeant Mitchell parks the Humvee and we all get out on the right side.
Bullets tear through the air. Dust explodes around us. I see Jessica standing at the end of the Humvee, lifting her weapon, and begin shooting.
All of the sudden a door opens and a civilian woman stumbles out of the building, screaming for help.
“Get her inside!” I yell.
Jessica doesn’t hesitate. She grabs the woman and runs, weaving through gunfire like she’s made of smoke and steel. I want to scream at her to stop, to wait, but I know she won’t.
Sergeant Mitchell and I push forward, laying suppressive fire. I see two insurgents drop, but more keep coming. It’s an ambush. We were baited.
“Captain Reyes!” a Private's voice crackles through the comms. “We’ve got wounded, two soldiers hit, one critical! We need the medic.”
“Location?”
“North side of the school!”
I motion to Sergeant Mitchell. “Cover me!”
I sprint toward the building, ankle screaming with every step. I round the corner and find Jessica crouched over a soldier, Private Langston. His chest is soaked in blood. Jessica’s hands are moving fast, voice calm.
“He’s crashing,” she says without looking up. “I need pressure on the wound and a medevac now.”
I kneel beside her, pressing down hard. Langston gasps, eyes wide with fear.
“You’re okay,” Jessica whispers. “Stay with me.”
But I see it. The way his pulse fades. The way his eyes lose focus.
“No,” she breathes. “No, no, no—”
Langston’s body goes still.
Jessica freezes.
Her hands are still on his chest, blood pooling beneath them. “I was too late,” she whispers.
“Jessica,” I say gently. “We have to move.”
She looks at me, and I see it, everything she’s been holding back. The grief, the guilt, the vow breaking inside her.
“I promised,” she says. “I promised no one would die.”
I place a hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t fail. You fought for him.”
She nods slowly, but her eyes are glass. She’s not okay. Not even close.
The insurgents have retreated, so we take this moment to load the civilians, get the wounded stabilized and loaded, but the damage is done.
Langston is gone.
Jessica sits in the back of the Humvee, silent, staring at her bloodstained hands.
I sit beside her, unsure what to say, so I don’t say anything.