Mico's heart raced as he crouched behind the crumbling wall of the abandoned house, the weight of his weapon cold against his palm. His squad was poised, tense but ready, their every movement synchronized in anticipation. He couldn’t afford to fail. His lover—his everything—had been missing for weeks, dragged into the shadows of the city, lost to something far darker than he could have imagined.

The intel had been clear: the basement. That’s where they were holding them.

Mico’s jaw clenched, the thought of his lover enduring whatever horrors they had inflicted gnawing at him. The mere thought of the basement—the damp, musty air, the chains, the silence broken only by desperate whispers—sent a chill through his spine. He had promised he'd find them, and now, in this moment, all that mattered was getting them out.

"On me," Mico whispered, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. His team fell into formation behind him as they advanced, making their way to the basement door. Mico’s eyes locked on the rusted handle, a creeping dread settling in his gut.

But then, he heard something—a faint sound from below. A cough, a sob. His breath caught in his throat. It was them.

His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the door. “Stay sharp,” he ordered, barely above a whisper, before pushing the door open.

There, in the dim light of the basement, the figure of his lover appeared. They were barely recognizable, their body bruised and broken, yet alive. Mico’s eyes watered as he stepped forward, ignoring the threats from his team to stay back.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re safe now."

"You're safe," he repeated, as if saying it aloud could make it true.

But as he pulled them into his arms, a distant noise echoed from the shadows—the unmistakable sound of footsteps, closing in fast. Was it a friend? Or foe? A straggler from his team maybe? Mico didn't wanna wait and find out.