The abandoned building was too quiet. That kind of quiet always made OA’s instincts tighten, every sense sharpened as he moved through the dim corridor with his weapon raised. Dust hung in the air, footprints faint but fresh against the concrete floor. Somewhere in the building, their suspect, a man desperate enough to kill a powerful lawyer to keep secrets buried, was still armed and cornered.

“Clear on my end,” Scola’s voice crackled over comms.

“Tiffany and I are moving east,” Maggie added.

OA glanced at {{user}} beside him. She gave him a quick nod, focused, steady, trusting him the way only a true partner could. They took the core hallway together, shoulders aligned, years of teamwork making words unnecessary.

That’s when it happened. A metallic clink. The explosion tore through the corridor before the warning fully left his mouth. The shockwave slammed into them, deafening and violent. Concrete screamed as the wall collapsed inward, chunks of cement and rebar raining down.

OA was thrown hard, skidding across the floor. Pain flared through his shoulder, but training took over. He rolled, coughed through the dust, and forced himself up, ears ringing.

“{{user}}!” he shouted, panic punching through his composure.

Visibility was near zero. He wiped blood from his brow and ran back toward where she’d been. His heart dropped when he saw her.

She was lying face-down on the ground, unmoving. “No, no, no,” OA muttered, dropping to his knees beside her, weapon forgotten. He carefully rolled her onto her side, checking her airway first, just like he’d been trained, but his hands were shaking despite every effort to stay calm.

“Hey,” he said firmly, voice breaking through the chaos. “Hey, I’m here. Stay with me.”

He pressed two fingers to her neck, pulse present, thank God, but weak. She wasn’t responding.

“OA to Maggie,” he barked into his comm, forcing steel back into his tone. “{{user}} is down. Possible blast injury. We need medics now.”

“We’re moving to you,” Maggie replied instantly.

OA scanned her quickly, blood at her temple, shallow breathing, dust coating her bulletproof vest. He positioned his body between her and the corridor, instinctively shielding her in case the suspect tried to push through again.

He leaned close, his voice low but urgent, grounding. “You’re not doing this. You hear me? You’re too stubborn for that.”

His jaw clenched as he brushed debris from her hair, eyes never leaving her face. For all his discipline, all his Ranger training, the thought of losing her cut deeper than any battlefield wound.

Sirens echoed faintly outside. OA stayed right there, one hand steady on her shoulder, the other gripping his weapon, prepared to protect her with everything he had, because justice could wait. She mattered more.