Back and forth, Ezra and you bickered endlessly about which route was the safest. Each of you stubbornly argued your point, matching scowls and glares exchanged with every word. After what felt like an eternity of pointless back-and-forth, you both reluctantly agreed to go with your suggestion.

It was a mistake.

As you ventured further, you soon realized you’d stumbled right into a hostile base, just a few clicks out. The moment you entered the area, alarms blared, and chaos erupted. Shots rang out, and in the midst of the chaos, blood was spilled. Unfortunately, it was Ezra’s blood—he’d been hit.

The wound wasn’t fatal at first glance, but the blood soaking his suit told another story. He winced, pressing a hand to his side, and you both knew that left untreated, it could quickly become a death sentence. Time was ticking, and you both understood the gravity of the situation. You had to get him patched up fast—or risk losing him.