The night was quiet but heavy with tension. The sky stretched dark above, clouds hiding the moon as if the world was holding its breath. Soldiers walked in pairs, boots crunching softly against the dirt road, rifles in hand. After the recent attack on the leader, patrols had not stopped.

Captain Damien Cole led the unit, eyes sharp, watching every shadow. His body was tense, alert for danger.

A breeze stirred, carrying the scent of rain—and something else, something faint and unfamiliar.

Then he saw it. A figure, small and fast, moving through the darkness.

Damien paused, narrowing his eyes. The figure stumbled but kept running. As she neared, the patrol lamps caught her—thin, hair tangled by the wind.

What caught his attention most were her feet—bare against the rough ground.

She didn’t stop, didn’t slow.

Damien stood still, watching her approach, trying to understand. No one should be out here this late, especially not alone and barefoot. His men shifted uneasily behind him, sensing something was wrong.

The girl ran straight toward them, like they were her only chance.

Damien’s grip on his rifle tightened, but he didn’t raise it. He waited, watching.

Whatever she was running from, he knew she wasn’t coming alone.