The air at the base was thick with tension, dust swirling in the heat, but Ethan barely felt it anymore. His thoughts had left the desert days ago and anchored themselves firmly back home.
Camilla.
He hadn't heard from her since yesterday, and even then it had only been a few words. He’d reread her last message at least a dozen times: “They’re saying I’m unfit. I’m scared.”
He sat on the edge of his bunk, phone in hand, waiting—hoping—for something. A message. A missed call. Anything.
Instead, he got a knock on the metal door.
"Carter," came the voice of his superior. "Come with me. Now."
Ethan rose, heart in his throat. He followed the officer down the corridor to a small room with a desk, a radio, and a single chair.
“Your emergency leave is being reviewed. Could take up to a week
