No one argued; Wyatt was the one holding the gun.Wyatt checked the peephole, his body language shifting fractionally. Not relaxing exactly, but changing. The weapon lowered slightly."Emma," he said, his voice gentler now but still firm. "It's military."Emma's face went white. Completely white. She pressed one hand to her mouth, the other to her stomach, and made a sound Lauren had never heard before. Not quite a sob. Not quite a scream. Just... something breaking."No," Emma whispered. "No, no, no—"Wyatt holstered his weapon and opened the door.Two Marines stood in the hallway, dress blues immaculate, faces carefully neutral but eyes full of practiced sympathy. A Casualty Assistance Calls Officer and a chaplain. Lauren recognized them from movies, from news reports, from every military family's worst nightmare made manifest."Miss Emma Taylor?" the CACO said gently. "May we come in?"Emma couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Just stood there frozen, staring at them like they might disa
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