Lucian
Mara drove like hell. We made it to General Mills in eighteen minutes flat.
When we pulled over, we got out and leaned against the car. No words. No arguments. Just silence—and the clock ticking louder in my head.
Then I grabbed her and kissed her hard, like I needed her breath to live. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and we kissed until air became a problem. I pressed my forehead against hers, our breaths uneven, faces flushed.
“Don’t worry, Mara. I’ll be back soon. It’s just a fight—I’m not planning on dying anytime soon. We’ve got a life to build,” I said softly.
She nodded, but I could feel her trembling.
“Don’t be a hero, Lucian. Just come back home.”
It was the most selfish thing a soldier’s loved one could say. And I loved her for it.
I held her tight. If anything ha
