𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The blast hit before Luke could even react.

One second, the armored vehicle was rumbling over sand and gravel—then a blinding flash swallowed everything. The world flipped, glass shattered, metal got crushed and Luke was thrown into blackness.

He was a proud Marine, stationed in Iraq. He and three of his men had been returning to base, their convoy reduced to a single vehicle after a long patrol. The missile hadn’t made direct contact—it detonated just feet away, but the impact was enough to launch the vehicle into the air like a toy. When it crashed back down, it was in pieces.

Nearby soldiers heard the explosion and rushed to the scene. By the time they reached the wreckage, smoke and fire were the only things left breathing. Of the four Marines, only one was still alive. Barely. Luke.

They were too far from any military hospital, and calling for a medevac would take too long. One soldier mentioned a rumor—an unauthorized medical facility tucked away in a nearby town. It wasn’t approved. It could’ve been a trap. But it was the only shot they had.

They made the call, immediately rushing to the rumoured location on foot.

Your hands were slick with blood. Not your first field operation, but this—this was different. The man on your table was practically dead when he showed up, one with deep wounds and deeper luck. Shrapnel laced his arm, embedded deep in the muscle. His breathing was ragged, shallow. But steady.

You focused, pulling out one of the many jagged pieces of shrapnel from his bicep. He flinched.

A hiss slipped through his teeth as his eyes cracked open, the haze of pain pulling him back to the surface. His gaze met yours—confused, bloodshot, but alive.