Chapter 15 Ronan
Ronan
Location: Field Med Station, Northern Alps
The medic tent is too bright.
Too loud.
Too exposed.
The moment we cross the perimeter, hands reach for Lena — gloves, equipment, voices firing orders — and something primal in me detonates.
“Stop.”
My voice hits the air like a blade.
Everyone freezes.
Lena sways on her feet beside me, exhausted, half-leaning into my arm. Her skin is cold, her breathing shallow, but she is aware enough to stiffen when the medics try to pull her away.
I curl my arm around her waist, anchoring her to my side.
“No one touches her unless I say so.”
A young medic blinks up at me. “Lieutenant Pierce, with respect, she needs—”
“She needs me right here.” My tone leaves no room for argument.
River steps forward, lowering his voice. “Ronan, let them assess her. You can stay—”
“I’m not stepping back,” I cut in.
His eyes narrow, not in challenge — in understanding.
He lifts his chin toward the medics. “Work around him.”
The medics hesitate for only a second before obeying. They move slower, more cautiously, giving me a wide berth as they start setting up equipment.
Lena’s fingers clutch the front of my jacket. She’s trying to hide it — always trying to be strong — but I feel the tremor. I feel everything.
“Ronan…” she whispers.
“I’m right here.”
She exhales shakily, leaning into me a little more.
A medic approaches with a portable scanner. He glances at me first — good choice. “We need to check for internal injuries. I won’t touch her without warning.”
Lena’s body tenses. I drop my hand to her lower back, steadying her as the medic moves the scanner over her ribs.
Her breath catches.
“Just breathe,” I murmur.
Her eyes flutter shut. “Trying.”
The scanner beeps. The medic frowns. “Multiple cracked ribs. Severe contusions. Dehydration. She needs fluids and a warm IV environment.”
The second medic adds, “We should move her to the enclosed tent. More equipment, fewer distractions.”
“No,” I say instantly.
Lena stiffens like she expected me to fight for her, but still can’t believe it.
One medic tries anyway. “Lieutenant, the isolation tent is protocol—”
“Protocols don’t matter,” I say. “She’s not leaving my sight.”
The medic exhales slowly. “Then you’ll need to come with her.”
That… I can live with.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, tightening my hold on her.
Lena opens her eyes, something unspoken shining in them — gratitude, fear, relief, maybe all of it tangled together.
“Ronan…” she breathes, voice barely there. “You don’t have to—”
“Yes. I do.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t argue again.
The medics wheel in a portable bed. Lena hesitates, and her fingers clamp around my wrist. Not wanting to let go. Not trusting this place. Not trusting anyone who isn’t me.
I bend, sliding my free hand beneath her knees. “I’ve got you.”
She gasps softly as I lift her — she’s weightless to me, even hurt. She curls into me instinctively, forehead pressing into my shoulder.
Every muscle in my body locks at the contact.
The medics lead us to the isolation tent. They expect me to lay her on the cot and step back.
I don’t.
I set her down carefully, crouching beside her. My hand stays wrapped around hers, thumb brushing her knuckles.
A medic gently attaches an IV. Lena flinches.
I feel the recoil travel through my own body.
“Easy,” I murmur. “I’m right here.”
She finds my eyes. “Don’t leave.”
She says it quietly. But the meaning punches through me like a fist.
“I won’t,” I promise, voice low, steady. “Not for anything.”
The medics work around us. They’re efficient, professional, but every time one moves too quickly, I shift, blocking their proximity. Protecting her. Shielding her.
River appears at the doorway, watching in silence.
After a moment he says, “Extraction team is inbound. Ten minutes out.”
“Good,” I answer without looking away from Lena. “We’ll be ready.”
A long pause. Then, softly:
“Ronan… she trusts you.”
Lena’s fingers tighten around mine.
I finally look up at him. “She should.”
He nods once — a soldier acknowledging another soldier’s truth — then steps out, giving us space.
Lena’s breathing evens out as the fluids take hold. Color returns to her cheeks. Her lashes flutter as she watches me, like she’s afraid if she blinks, I’ll disappear.
“I didn’t think you’d really find me,” she whispers.
My jaw flexes. “Then you underestimate how far I’m willing to go for you.”
Her eyes fill — not with fear this time.
With something else.
Hope.
Recognition.
Something that hits me square in the ribs.
She whispers, “Stay with me… please.”
I lean in, my forehead brushing hers, my voice a vow:
“Always.”
Outside, the team prepares for exfil.
Inside, Lena’s hand rests in mine — small, trembling, but alive.
And I swear to myself — to her — no one will ever take her from me again.
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