Chapter 20: The Cost of Loyalty

The firefight lasted forty minutes. By the time the compound was secure and the HVT was in flex-cuffs, the sun was high and the adrenaline was fading.

I was kneeling in the dirt, checking Stitch for injuries, when James walked up. He looked at me, his eyes burning with a mix of fury and relief that he couldn't quite hide.

Thorne walked over, his face covered in soot. He looked at me, then at the Captain. He didn't say anything, but he stepped up and offered me his canteen. It was a silent peace offering.

"Good work, Ramírez," Thorne said, his voice gruff. "You stayed in your sector."

"Thanks, Thorne," I said, taking a drink.

James watched the exchange, his jaw tight. He saw his men—the men who had once called me a witch—now standing around me like a shield. He had achieved the discipline he wanted, but at a cost he hadn't expected.

As we prepared to extract, James caught my eye. He didn't speak, but he tapped the spot on his own jaw where he had touched mine the night before. A secret signal. A reminder that even in the middle of a war, some things were worth the risk.

But as I looked at Viper, who was watching us both with a stony expression, I knew the real test was coming. We weren't just fighting the Taliban anymore; we were fighting the very rules that kept us alive.