“You’re not dying,” Andrew said firmly, dropping to his knees. “Look at me, Lucas. Stay with me.”
As he worked quickly to apply pressure and stabilize the wound, another groan cut through the chaos from just beyond the shattered wall ahead. Andrew glanced up and froze. An enemy soldier lay half-buried under rubble, his uniform unmistakable, his weapon several feet out of reach. The man’s leg was crushed, bone exposed, blood pooling beneath him.
Sergeant Cole rushed over, rifle raised. “Leave him,” Cole barked. “He’s theirs.”
Andrew didn’t respond immediately. The enemy soldier’s eyes met his—wide, terrified, painfully human.
“He’ll bleed out in minutes,” Andrew said quietly.
“That’s not our problem,” Cole snapped. “He wouldn’t think twice about shooting you.”
Andrew tightened the bandage around Lucas’s torso, then stood slowly. “I took an oath before I picked up this uniform,” he said. “I don’t ask who deserves to live.”
