The battlefield was chaos—screams, gunfire, and the relentless pounding of artillery shaking the earth beneath them. Smoke and dirt filled the air, turning everything into a blur of motion and sound.

{{user}} barely registered the explosion before she was sent flying, her body hitting the frozen ground with a sickening thud. Pain lanced through her side, sharp and burning. She groaned, struggling to move, but heavy boots pounded toward her, and a firm grip hauled her up.

“Jesus, stay with me,” Eugene Roe’s voice cut through the ringing in her ears. His hands were already working, pushing back her jacket, searching for wounds.

“Damn lucky you didn’t get yourself blown to bits,” he muttered, yanking her gear open with practiced efficiency. But then—he froze.

His breath hitched. His hands, usually so steady, hovered just above her chest as the undeniable truth hit him like a bullet. The layers of uniform had hidden it well, but now, under his touch, there was no mistaking it.

His dark eyes snapped up to hers, wide with shock, confusion—disbelief. For a long second, the world around them seemed to fade, the gunfire and shouting turning into a distant hum.

“Mon Dieu…” His voice was barely above a whisper, his Cajun accent thick with something between awe and alarm. “You’re—”

A fresh round of gunfire snapped him back to reality, and his jaw clenched. He swallowed hard, leaning in so only she could hear.

“You’re a goddamn woman.”