4

“I’m with security,” he added, as if that explained everything. “And if you want to save lives, you’ll listen.”

I wanted to argue, but a part of me knew he was probably right.

Secondary devices were a common tactic.

I hesitated, glancing back at the building.

My gut twisted, torn between the need to act fast and the fear of making a mistake.

2

KAREEM

She was stubborn, I could see that right away.

The way her jaw clenched, the fire in her eyes—it was clear she wasn’t going to back down easily.

Most people would have just listened and stayed out of the way.

But not her.

She was different.

I watched her take in the scene, her hand still gripping her medical kit like it was her only lifeline.

I could tell she’d been in situations like this before, but she was still too green, too driven by emotions to make the right call.

She’d run in there without thinking, get herself killed trying to save people who were already beyond help.

“Aqsa, is it?” I asked, having caught her name from one of the other responders.

She glared at me, clearly suspicious.

“What do you know about this?”

“More than you think,” I replied, glancing back at the wreckage. “You go in there now, and you’ll be picking shrapnel out of your body for the rest of your life—if you even make it out.”

She didn’t move.

Her body was tense, coiled like she was ready to spring into action at any moment.

I admired that, even if it was reckless.

But I didn’t have time to admire anyone right now.

The clock was ticking.

"Look," I said, stepping in front of her again. "There’s protocol for a reason. We need to sweep the building first. You rushing in there will only cause more damage."

Her eyes flickered with frustration, and I could see the battle playing out in her head.

I had seen it before—the clash between duty and instinct.

She wanted to save people, but sometimes, saving people meant waiting, holding back when it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I don’t have time to wait,” she finally said, but I could hear the doubt creeping into her voice.

“You do if you want to live,” I shot back, locking eyes with her. “And trust me, I’m not in the mood to pull anyone else out of the rubble today.”

For a second, she hesitated.

Then, with a sigh, she stepped back.

She didn’t like it, but she knew I was right. I could see it in the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

She wasn’t used to being told what to do, especially in a situation like this, but she was smart enough to know when to listen.

"Fine," she muttered, her voice tight with frustration. "But if you're wrong, and someone dies because we waited—" she stopped short, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me.

She didn’t need to finish her sentence for me to know what she was thinking.

If people died, it would be on me.

I didn’t flinch.

I’d seen enough death to know that hesitation could save more lives than blind action.

"I'll take responsibility," I said simply.

With that, I turned away from her, my mind already on the next steps.

The bomb squad needed to move in, but I had a feeling we didn’t have much time.

These attacks were becoming more coordinated, more precise.

Whoever was behind this knew how to cover their tracks, but I could sense their patterns.

I’d been chasing shadows like this long enough to know when things were about to go south.

As I walked toward the perimeter, I glanced back at Aqsa.

She was still standing by the entrance, her eyes on the building like she was trying to calculate the risk of disobeying me.

I almost smiled.

She reminded me of myself, years ago—full of fire, ready to burn the world down to save it.

But I’d learned the hard way that you couldn’t save everyone.

3

AQSA

I hated waiting.

Every second felt like an eternity, each one ticking by while people could be trapped inside, bleeding out, or worse.