The bunker was cold, its stone walls damp with condensation from the relentless rain that battered the ground above. Inside, it was eerily quiet, save for the occasional drip of water that echoed through the dimly lit space. Sarah leaned against the wall, her rifle resting across her knees, staring blankly at the floor.
The silence was unbearable.
Across the room, Harper was checking the maps, his face etched with the same weariness that gripped them all. They had lost Rivas. That fact hung in the air like a dark cloud, unspoken but ever-present. The grief gnawed at Sarah's insides, but there was no time to process it—not here, not now. The war was still raging outside, and the enemy wasn't going to wait for them to catch their breath.
"We'll need to move at first light," Harper said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, hoarse from the smoke and exhaustion. "We can't stay here long. The enemy will figure out we've taken shelter, and they'll come for us."
Sarah nodded absently, her thoughts elsewhere. Her mind was replaying the ambush over and over again—the gunfire, the cries for help, the look on Rivas' face as he fell. She clenched her fists, willing the memories away. There was no room for weakness. Not here.
Harper glanced over at her, concern flickering in his eyes. "You good?"
Sarah forced a nod. "Yeah. Just… processing."
"We all are," Harper said, his voice softening. He crossed the room and sat beside her, his expression grim. "This war, it's taken a lot from all of us. But we can't let it break us. Not yet."
Sarah looked at him, her eyes hardening. "It won't."
But even as the words left her mouth, doubt crept into her mind. The world was crumbling around them, their squad was dwindling, and the enemy seemed to be growing stronger with every passing day. How long could they keep fighting? How long before they, too, were swallowed by the chaos?
A soft sob broke the silence, and Sarah turned her head. In the corner of the bunker, tucked away in the shadows, Sarah's parents huddled together, their faces pale and drawn with grief. Her mother was crying softly, the tears rolling down her cheeks as her father held her tightly, his own face set in a grim mask of despair.
The sight hit Sarah like a punch to the gut. She had been so focused on surviving, on pushing through the pain, that she had almost forgotten what they were fighting for. Her family, the people who had been caught in the crossfire of this brutal war, were suffering just as much as she was—maybe even more.
"I'm sorry," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible. "I couldn't save them."
Her mother looked up, her eyes red and swollen. She didn't speak, but the pain in her gaze said more than words ever could. Sarah felt her throat tighten, a lump forming as the guilt threatened to overwhelm her. She had always been strong, always the one to protect others, but now… now she felt powerless.
Harper placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "You did everything you could, Sarah. This isn't on you."
She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. "It doesn't feel like enough."
"It never does," Harper said quietly. "But we keep going. We have to."
Sarah closed her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. He was right. They had no choice but to keep moving forward, no matter how broken they felt inside. The war wasn't over, and as long as they were still breathing, they had to fight.
Outside, the rain continued to pour, the steady drumming a reminder of the chaos that waited for them beyond the bunker walls. Sarah wiped her eyes, forcing herself to stand. There was no time for weakness. The enemy wouldn't care about their grief, their losses. The only thing that mattered now was survival.
"We need to secure the perimeter," Sarah said, her voice steady once more. "If they're coming for us, we need to be ready."
Harper nodded, rising to his feet. "Agreed. I'll take first watch. Get some rest, Sarah. You'll need it."
But Sarah shook her head. "I'm not leaving my post. Not tonight."
Harper didn't argue. He simply gave her a look of understanding before grabbing his rifle and heading for the entrance of the bunker. Sarah watched him go, her heart heavy with the weight of everything they had lost. But as she tightened her grip on her weapon and moved toward the door, she reminded herself of one simple truth.
The fight wasn't over. Not yet.