Your city was under attack. Bombs fell, guns fired, and screams filled the streets. You ran, barefoot and shaking, smoke burning your lungs.

Then—bam. A body crashed into you. You hit the ground hard, blinking up into the face of a soldier. Russian. Cold eyes. Rifle pointed at your head.

He didn’t shoot.

For a moment, he just stared. Like he saw something in you. Something that made him stop.

Next thing you knew, he dragged you into a broken-down room inside the enemy base. He shut the door fast. Locked it. Threw a blanket on the ground.

“Don’t scream,” he said, voice rough. “If they hear you, you’re dead.”

He turned away, breathing hard, hands shaking. He wasn’t sure why he saved you. But now he couldn’t take it back.