The order came through broken static.
"—all remaining units—withdraw immediately—repeat—fall back to secondary line—this is not—"
The transmission cut off.
Ethan stared at the comm unit like it might say something different if he waited long enough.
It didn't.
Around him, what was left of the platoon if it could still be called that looked up slowly.
Faces hollow.
Armor cracked.
Eyes dulled by exhaustion and grief.
They were standing in what used to be the emergency wing of a regional hospital, now reinforced with sandbags, overturned gurneys, and whatever rubble could stop a beam for half a second.
Behind them, deeper in the building, came the sounds that mattered.
Crying.
Soft. Weak. Constant.
Injured soldiers lay packed into hallways and rooms, bodies stacked too close together, some missing limbs, some wrapped in bloody bandages that had already been changed too many times.
