CHAPTER 39
Bailey
Day Twenty-two
The quiet swishing of uniformed legs rubbing together and boots shuffling against the packed dirt fills the air. My balaclava presses against my face, stifling any sound of breathing that might give us away.
We’ve been watching this location for weeks. There has been lots of traffic in and out, indicating there is a pretty good chance that our target is here.
My heart pounds, the adrenaline ratcheting my pulse up multiple degrees. This is the sort of thing I live for: being pretty sure about what lies beyond the door but not being entirely sure. The unknown. The potential danger. It used to be the only thing I lived for.
Not anymore.
In the time I’ve been away from Palmer, I have only become more and more sure of what I’ve already told her: I love her. I’ve spent more time reminiscing about her laugh, her smile, her beautiful face than I can count, as well as the more nuanced parts of her that only I would know.
The way her soft snores vibrate through my chest when she lays her head on my chest.
The way her fingers trace across my skin when she’s lost in thought.
The way her lips feel under mine.
And so much more.
More than that, I’ve been thinking about the fact that I’m not sure how to handle being away from her like this, without warning, without knowing if I’ll see her again. For so long, this is all I’ve lived for. But now? Now, my heart beats for her.
I slow my breathing, following the directions of the hand movements from my squad leader through the green lens of our night vision goggles.
Keep moving.
Pause.
Get in position.
On my signal.
Silently, I move into my position and take a moment to center myself, picturing Palmer.
I will go home to her. I promised.
And I don’t break my promises.
Our leader gives the signal. The point man breaches the door, and we’re inside, shots firing and bodies jostling against my own. We continue to move through the space, and the smell of dust and copper intermingling fills my nose.
A yell rings out from in the hallway ahead of me.
That’s the last thing I hear before it all goes black.