James’s jaw unclenched just a little. “I’ll make the call.”
A few minutes later, Will was wheeled out, still unconscious, his body covered in tubes and wires. They moved him straight into the ICU. On the other side of the thick glass, James stood staring at his brother, who looked lifeless under the harsh hospital lights.
He lifted his hand and pressed it softly to the glass, leaving a faint handprint. After a moment, he turned away, his face cold and unreadable again.
“You’ve all seen enough. Go get some rest,” he barked. “Clean yourselves up. Get the blood off. You’re scaring people.”
“Yes, sir!” The team answered in rough voices, helping each other limp away down the hall.
James walked alone toward his quarters. Life at the border base was rough. The so-called rest room was really just a cramped, damp little box. When he opened the door, the smell of wet earth hit him right away.
He tossed his muddy vest onto the floor, washed his hands, and rummaged through his metal locker for his phone. It was out of battery, completely dead. He plugged it in, and the screen lit up in a flood of missed calls and messages.
He saw Emmy’s name, message after message waiting. But instead of replying, he leaned on the desk and called Abriella.
She answered right away. “James? Is that you?”
Her voice was shaky, a mess of relief and worry. “Is it over? Are you safe? Why hasn’t Will called me? His phone’s been off forever. Is he okay?”
James gripped his phone tighter. He didn’t know how to say it. The silence stretched for a few long seconds, agony for the person waiting on the other end.
Abriella’s voice changed, all her hope draining away. “James… is Will… is he gone?”
She started to cry, her words breaking apart. “No, I don’t believe it! He promised me! He swore he’d come home safe…”
Hearing her falling apart, James jumped in, “It’s not that bad. He’s hurt, yes, but he’s alive. He’s in the ICU and still unconscious. They need family to sign off on the next surgery.”


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