Page 118 of Promises in the Dark

Neither did I.

We rushed with the rest of the medical staff towards the med bay and I kept my arm around Red as we ran, her breathing still ragged but her steps steadying. My heart was pounding, not just from the sprint but from the fucking dread clawing at my chest.

Blood, guts, and the smell of burnt flesh.

We rounded a corner and saw the med bay came into view—a mess of blood, soaked bandages, and bodies. Soldiers and medics sprawled out on every available surface, some of them groaning in pain, others deadly silent, all fucked up.

“Pyro!” I yelled, spotting him frantically trying to triage the chaos.

He looked like absolute shit—bloody, bruised, but still on his feet, running on adrenaline. “What the fuck happened?!”

He turned to face me, his face grim and covered in grime. “Failed mission,” he said, looking around at the carnage. “We were supposed to hit a small insurgent group, but we walked right into an ambush. IEDs[3]everywhere. They knew we were coming, had the high ground and everything. It was a slaughter. Lucky any of us made it back at all.”

"How the hell did that happen?" I asked, my patience long gone.

Pyro shook his head, wiping sweat and blood from his brow.

“Bad intel,” Pyro muttered, wiping the blood from his brow. “Real bad. We didn’t stand a fucking chance. Half the squad got shredded before we knew what was happening. Medics went in to evac the wounded, but they got caught in the crossfire,” he explained, a hard edge to his voice.

This wasn’t just a fuck-up; it was a catastrophe.

“How many dead?” I demanded, even though I could already see for myself how fucked up things were.

“Too many,” Pyro replied, his eyes hard. “We lost good men today, Rogue. Those who made it back... well, you’re looking at it.”

He gestured around the med bay, the extent of the carnage clear as day.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “This whole place is falling apart.”

“And it’s not over,” he said, his voice dropping. "The brass wants us back out there as soon as we’re patched up.”

I stared at him, barely keeping the rage in check. “What the fuck did you just say?” It was all I could manage to keep from screaming.

“You heard me right, man. They want us back out there, patched up or not.”

It would be a suicide mission. And it would be deliberate.

I fucking knew it.

This wasn’t just bad luck. The ambush, the equipment not showing up—it reeked of an inside job. There was no way those insurgents were one step ahead of us every fucking time without someone feeding them intel. Someone on the inside was leaking everything, selling us out piece by piece.

First, they leaked our position. Now, they wanted us to march right back into the grinder.

This wasn’t just about the enemy out there.

The enemy was right fucking here.

I leaned in close to Pyro, lowering my voice. I took a deep breath, weighing my options. Talking to Pyro was a risk, but fuck it—I needed someone to bounce this off. And if there was one person I trusted in this hellhole, it was him.

“We’re getting fucked from the inside, I can feel it. And it ain’t just leaks—those bastards up top are sending us on suicide missions. Feels like someone wants our task force wiped out."

Pyro nodded grimly.

“You’re not the only one thinking that. But right now, we need to focus on keeping these guys alive.”

I turned to Red, her eyes already scanning the chaos, her mind calculating the best course of action.

“You ready?” I asked her, knowing the answer but needing to hear it.

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