Photograph (camren)

Chapter Forty One

It is not in the minds of many that life is something that just ends abruptly. An entity that can come to a screeching halt the same as a car would before hitting a deer. Maybe while hitting the deer.

During intense situations in life, you are either the hunter or pray, the aggressor or the submissive, the king or disciple, or in this case, the car or the deer. Something will come along to end the thumping of blood through your veins, wither it be an illness or the force of another living entity; it will come.

There, that day the green-eyed marine determined she and her team were the ladder.

Lauren Jauregui had been taught these things growing up in North Carolina as the daughter of a military officer. She learned young that people sometimes go places and never come back. The first time she experienced it was when her Uncle Denny didn't come home with her father after their first deployment after her birth, she had just turned five. It was after the twin towers in New York had fallen and whoever had been responsible, had the entire US army tracking them down.

Her father had reenlisted as did his brother, and only one had returned.

Sometimes, the raven-haired lieutenant imagined that her father's survivors' guilt had gotten the better of him during a high-stakes takedown, resulting in him being captured.

But either way, he eventually didn't make it back home either.

Laying against the cool of a stone imbedded in the mountain, she wondered if she'd end up like them both. If she would submit to the fate of never being able to hold the woman she loved again. That she too, would die laying in a pile of rubble covered in her own blood with her last thought being warm-brown eyes.

The lieutenant was snapped out of the trance once Johnson's face comes into focus a few yards away. He seemed to be alright aside from some scrapes and probably a few broken ribs. But as soon as her vision cleared she realized what it was he was doing.

Young had been hit in the leg, from what she could tell it wasn't life threatening if they could get him out of here, but the chance of that were slim. In fact, they probably didn't have a lot of time before whoever planned the attack came to check out their handy work.

Donte's hands shook as he placed pressure to the younger man's wounded calve. Unable to swallow the anxiety that crept up his throat and formed tears in his eyes. He and Jackson had been best friends since their first day at bootcamp, he was like a brother more than a teammate. This being the darker-skinned boy's first tour, he hadn't seen much blood up to this point. Lauren could tell solely on how his eyes hadn't gone blank at the sight of the substance.

She on the other hand, had seen more than her fair share of blood.

As the squad leader it was her job to round up everyone and get them out of there, that was her job. Not Johnson's, not Young's, nor Harris, or Kent. Hers. Jauregui. With that she did her best to pick herself up from the ground, making sure to go slowly but surely, in order to examine where her pain was.

She felt a pang in her left forearm, then looked to see there was blood staining her coat; broken. Another sharp pain rang through her ribcage, indicating there had to be some broken or at least bruised ribs in there. And finally she took a breath in then licked her lips, to taste an iron like liquid coming from her nose and down her cheek- more blood. A head wound.

Fuck.

With a deep breath she gathered herself, and spoke only loud enough to catch her subordinate's attention. "Johnson," his gaze was still glued to his friend's leg. "Johnson," nothing, "Donte."

"Yes m'am."

"Harris, Kent?"

He simply nodded his head as he finally met her gaze. "Kent survived as did Harris, pretty banged up though. They went to go find the radio and their guns."