Four—
But the numbers blurred together, slipping out of focus as my body refused to cooperate.
My arms felt like they belonged to someone else.
My legs trembled violently just trying to keep me upright on my knees.
Even if I could stand—even if I could fight—even if I could land one clean hit—
I wouldn’t survive long enough to make it count.
A low groan broke through the tension.
I turned my head sharply to the left.
The soldier.
The one who had driven me.
He was being dragged forward between two masked men, his body barely able to support itself.
His uniform was in ruins—torn, soaked through with dark crimson across his chest and shoulder.
Blood matted his hair, and one of his eyes was already swollen nearly shut, forcing him to squint through pain.
They shoved him down.
Hard.
Forcing him to his knees directly in front of me.
His head lifted.
Slowly. Painfully.
And for one brief second—our eyes met.
There was something there.
Regret. Apology. Fear.
But also—acceptance.
Like he knew what was coming.
Like he’d already accepted it.
Before he could speak—before I could—
A gunshot cracked through the air.
Sharp. Final. Deafening.
The soldier’s body jolted once.
A harsh, involuntary jerk.
Then collapsed forward into the dirt.
