War doesn't send a warning shot. It just hits you... loud, fast, and real.
We arrived at an outpost near the edge of a village no one bothered to name. It was all dirt roads, rusted signs, and kids too young to know what silence used to sound like. The air tasted like dust and regret.
Our squad was tight. Not by choice, but by survival.
Marlon was the glue, always cracking jokes about how we were gonna open a grillhouse after the war. "Meat. Fire. Freedom," he'd say. I'd just nod and fake a smile, but part of me hoped we actually would.
Then there was Darius. Quiet. Focused. He used to be a boxer before enlisting, the kind of guy who didn't talk much but would throw hands for you without blinking. He watched my back from day one.
And then... there was Rae.
She wasn't supposed to be there ... a medic from another unit, transferred in after her team got hit by an IED. She had eyes that didn't flinch, hands steady as steel, and a voice that could lower your blood pressure. We never spoke much at first. But when she patched up a cut on my arm and said, "You flinch more from love than you do from bullets, huh?" I knew she saw right through me.
She was right, though.
We went on patrols almost daily. Some were quiet, others loud enough to keep your ears ringing for hours. I started to get used to the adrenaline. Not because it felt good, but because it was the only time I didn't feel anything at all.
One night, while we were on perimeter watch, Marlon asked me, "What's the first thing you'll do if we make it out?"
I didn't answer right away.
"Probably write a book," I said. "So someone somewhere will know we were more than just dog tags and body bags."
He smiled. "Call it Wounds Beneath the Skin. I'd read that."
We shared a quiet moment before the shots started.
They came out of nowhere. The dark lit up with muzzle flashes. Chaos. Screams. Dirt flying. My training kicked in, but fear never left. I dragged Marlon behind cover, my ears ringing, my heart racing.
He was hit. Shoulder. Bad, but not fatal. Rae ran to us through the gunfire like the war didn't exist. Like saving lives was louder than the bombs. She kept him alive.
That night, I realized... this wasn't a game. This was family.
And I wasn't alone anymore.