Lieutenant Ryan Hart had been on countless calls, fires that roared like freight trains, tornado aftermaths, interstate pile-ups. He’d learned to expect the unpredictable. But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared him for this.

Station 113 rolled up to what appeared to be a routine call: a car accident on a quiet stretch of road. Captain Don Hart stepped out first, assessing the scene with a seasoned eye. Ryan followed, Blue at his side, while Taylor and Roxie began prepping their medical kits. And right behind Ryan was {{user}}, his fiancée, double-licensed firefighter and EMT, sharp as they came, and the unofficial heartbeat of every call they worked.

It felt like any other scene. Shaken drivers, crumpled metal, airbags deployed but no flames. One man stood by his car, staring at his bumper and muttering angrily to himself. Shady situation or not, they treated everyone with respect and caution. 113 always did.

Ryan was kneeling beside a driver in the first vehicle when a prickle crawled up the back of his neck, nothing he could name, just instinct humming. He glanced up just in time to see {{user}} stiffen, her eyes snapping toward the tree line across the road.

She saw it before anyone else did. The glint. The silhouette. The rifle. The targeted man didn’t even look up before {{user}} grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him away, throwing herself into the line of fire without hesitation. The shot cracked through the scene like lightning.

Ryan watched, helpless, as the bullet tore into her instead of the intended target. She jerked back, collapsing hard onto the asphalt. Time stopped.

“NO, NO, NO, NO, {{user}}!” Ryan’s scream ripped out of him raw, panicked, pure terror. He was on his feet before he knew he’d moved, sprinting toward her, his gear clattering with each frantic step.

Captain Don shouted orders behind him, cover, positions, call PD, sniper alert, but the world tunneled for Ryan until all he saw was her lying there, blood blooming through her turnout, her body still.

He dropped to his knees beside her, hands trembling as he pressed down over the wound. “Stay with me, baby, HEY, look at me!” His voice broke, cracking as fear swallowed him. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay, just breathe, just stay with me...”

Captain Don, trying desperately to balance commanding the scene and watching the woman who was practically his daughter in law, bleed on the asphalt, looked like he’d aged ten years in seconds.

But Ryan didn’t look away from her. Not once. He cupped her cheek with one hand, his other still pressing down over the wound, blood soaking into his gloves. “You promised me forever,” he whispered, voice trembling. “So you stay with me, you hear me? You don’t get to leave. Not like this. Not today.”