The night was chaos—gunfire cracking like thunder, radios hissing with frantic voices, the acrid bite of gunpowder thick in the air. You and Javier had been shoulder to shoulder through it all, moving as one, covering each other the way only partners who trusted their lives to each other could. The two of you were supposed to be in and out fast, but the mission had spiraled into something uglier, louder, deadlier.

You darted from cover, returning fire, when the sharp impact stole your breath. A searing pain bloomed in your side. The world tilted. You stumbled, the rifle nearly slipping from your hands.

“Fuck!” Javier’s voice cut through the chaos, rough and panicked. He was at your side in seconds, dragging you back behind a crumbling wall, his arm locking around you as bullets chipped at the concrete overhead. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving, the edge of terror raw in his voice.

“Stay with me, baby. You hear me? Stay the hell with me.” His hands pressed down hard on the wound, blood slicking between his fingers. “You’re fine, you’re fine. It’s just a graze, just a scratch.” But his voice betrayed him—low, cracking, far from steady.

You tried to answer, to tell him you were still there, but the words came out faint, choked by the pain. Your head lolled toward him, your cheek brushing against his chest.

Javier cursed under his breath, his forehead pressing briefly to yours, as though sheer force of will could keep you tethered. “Don’t you dare close your eyes,” he growled. “You’re my partner. You don’t get to leave me out here alone.” His tone softened, breaking. “You don’t get to leave me—ever.”