James?

Was James here? Had I dreamed he died? He’d hate me for all the terrors I’d inflicted in his name. Tears burned, but for now, all I could do was succumb to the darkness, letting it pull me back into its embrace.

* * *

The next time consciousness tugged at me, the sensation was different—a gentle warmth, like being cradled in cotton smelling of the sea. My senses were coming back to life, each one bringing a piece of my environment into sharper focus. The scent of the ocean was stronger now, mingled with the crisp, sterile smells of medical supplies, and something else… citrus maybe. I was alive, that much was clear, but how I’d gotten here was shrouded in fog.

I tried to piece together the events leading to this moment. Had I been hurt? The pain coursing through my body answered that question. But what had happened? My last clear memory was of the mission, the compound… Annie. Was I here with my team? Were we on a mission?

“Save… James… Save him… ” Why couldn’t I hear my words?

Why did everything hurt?

My thoughts were a jumbled mess, each colliding with the next, creating a cacophony of confusion and uncertainty. I strained to listen, hoping to catch a snippet of conversation that would offer some clarity.

Voices drifted in and out of my awareness. “He’s confused… delirious…” someone said, their tone laced with concern.

“… temperature is too high…” another voice chimed in, a note of urgency cutting through their words.

The fragments of conversation only added to my disorientation. I tried to speak, to ask where I was, what was happening, but my throat was a barren desert, and no words would form.

“… someone get Doc Jen…” The urgency in the voice was unmistakable now. I felt hands on me, checking my vitals, their touch clinical and hard.

The pain, the confusion, the disjointed snippets of conversation—it was all too much. I felt myself slipping away again, the effort to stay conscious too great a battle. As I shut my eyes, succumbing once more to the darkness, I wished the world would make sense. But for now, all I could do was drift in the sea of unconsciousness, letting the waves of pain and confusion wash over me.

* * *

As I drifted awake, the fog in my mind seemed to have lifted somewhat. My thoughts were clearer, more focused, and first and foremost among them was Annie.

I managed to call her name, and I felt a firm grip on my hand, grounding and real.

“We have her,” a familiar voice assured me.

The voice… I knew that voice. With considerable effort, I turned my head, trying to focus. My vision was blurred, the features swimming before my eyes in a haze. But bit by bit, the image began to make sense, the lines and contours forming a picture I recognized.

The Army Ranger. Ryder. He was here, next to me. Relief washed over me, followed by a surge of questions and confusion.

Holding my hand? His fingers laced with mine.

“We got out?” I rasped, my voice barely audible, my throat parched and sore.

Ryder’s face was a mask of concern and relief, and he nodded. “Yeah, we got out. You’ve been here under, for five days, but we’re back, and they got the bullet out and repaired the damage.”

“Amos?”

Ryder sighed. “Still in the wind right now.”

I tried to process this information; each word Ryder spoke helping to piece together the fragmented memories. Bullet. Damage. Wind. None of it made sense, and the words swirled in my head, but one thing anchored them all—Annie was safe.

The relief flooding me was overwhelming, a tide of emotion that threatened to pull me under once again, and my body was still weak, uncooperative, refusing to do more than lie there, half-awake, and half-alive.

“Annie…” I repeated, managed to whisper, a plea and a prayer in one.

Ryder squeezed my hand, a silent message of understanding and reassurance. “She’s fine, August. She’s safe, and she’s with us. You did it. You saved her.”

The weight of those words was immense, and as they sunk in, a sense of peace began to settle over me. I had done what I set out to do. I had saved Annie.

“We’ll organize her visiting you, and?—”