Page 92 of Mariposa
“Posa. If you’re going to be an emotional mess, then you don’t belong anywhere near us right now.” My tone is cold and curt, the way it needs to be when lives are on the line. Our personal relationship disappears when it comes to work. That part will never change about me.
She stiffens as if I struck her. She looks at me, and her once-tense body relaxes. Her chest rises and falls fast and sharp, pinballing her angry gaze on me and Booker.
“Are you solid, or do you need to be sent to a desk?” I ask cruelly. She gathers herself quickly, transforming into the soldier who doesn’t break.
“You answer your superior when he’s talking to you,” Booker scoffs.
Her jaw ticks momentarily, and she puts on the mask she wore during the course. Violet doesn’t like to be told what to do, but she wouldn’t dare challenge her superiors. As much as she likes to taunt me, the respect she holds remains in the way she relaxes and says, “Yes, Master Sergeant. I’m good.”
35
VIOLET
The gate to our location is chaotic—Humvees speed inside, passing the guards. Security Forces wave their arms, guiding them in—a Black Hawk medivac helicopter lands at the airfield. I’m watching everything unfold, hoping and waiting to see Castle alive. The entire time, it feels like I’m in a horror movie. Bodies are being brought out on stretchers from the helicopter. My fingers are tucked into my vest as I wait, dread fueling my senses. Delta, along with Marine Raiders, managed to get the injured and KIA soldiers back to base, but they still need help. They’re still in the fight, and we’re ready to provide support.
We’re all dressed, riddled with weapons, and streaks of green, black, and brown painted all over our faces. Our balaclava masks are secured in our pockets. Booker stands next to me as I continue to hiccup violently from holding in the urge to cry.
I’m known as The Unbreakable Soldier, yet every time Kade touches me, I shatter. The way he shifts into the man everyone fears, scolding me like I’m just any other person to him, corrupts me. I’m getting too attached already, craving the side of him no one else knows.
I know I don’t get special treatment because we’re fucking, but still. I didn’t like the way he shut me down. My feelings seep into our work relationship, and I’m a naive idiot for thinking I could have a no-strings-attached relationship with a man I admire the way I do him.
My phone vibrates against my thigh. Taking it out, I walk further away from Booker, seeking privacy. I’m also giving him a cold shoulder because he snapped at me earlier. My emotions are high tonight, and I still need time to reflect on how I reacted.
“Isla, never argue with your superiors. Don’t be that person.”
Castle’s words ricochet into my head, and the urge to cry strengthens. Just a few days ago, we were playing Catan, drinking and talking shit about work, and now? She might be dead. Flashes of our last girls’ night slip into my mind. Her curly red hair bounced with each drunken laugh, and her bright smile was so infectious I couldn’t help but smile with her each time. I don’t make friends easily, and this hurts too much.
Turning my phone around, my heart drops at the message.
Grandpa:
Grandma is having a tough time. She misses you. Do you have time to call and read her a letter tonight?
Me:
What’s wrong with her? Did she tell you about the letters? Unfortunately, I’m swamped and might be for the rest of the week. Things are getting hectic here, but don’t worry.
Grandpa:
I’m her husband. I know everything about her. She’s not having a lot of good days lately. She keeps singing, ‘We Belong Together’ and tries to look for her diner uniform to go to work. She thinks it’s the 1960s. It’s getting worse by the day. I just wanted to let you know so you could give her a call before…you know.
Me:
I will call as soon as I have a window. I love you. Please give her my love.
Castle’s screaming pulls me out of my phone.
She’s here. She’s…
Oh.No.
She’s alive, and a part of me relaxes, but then I see her trouble. I’ve never heard someone shout deep, bloodcurdling sounds of excruciating pain like hers. There’s so much blood. It drips like a waterfall, leaving a trail of deep red crimson as a group of medical support wheels her.
“Ah! Fuck!” she keeps screaming, along with other soldiers, rushing into the on-base emergency care.
I jog up to her, but before I can get too close, Booker grips my shoulder, pulling me back.
“Don’t get in the way. Let them do their job, and we’ll do ours,” he says.
