Chapter 2: The medic frowned but nodded.
The medic frowned but nodded. He signaled to the other medic, who was running up with a stretcher.
I grabbed Grant’s sleeve.
“The mission isn’t over.”
He looked down at my fingers gripping his forearm.
“Yes,” he said, “it is.”
“We haven’t—”
“Mercer.” His voice dropped so only I could hear. “The assignment is terminated effective immediately. You did your job. It’s done.”
“The investigation—”
“Is no longer your responsibility.”
I wanted to argue. But the heat was pulling me back down into a dark, quiet place. The sky was going white again.
Before I slipped under, I heard Vega’s voice—no longer sharp, but tight, controlled.
“Sir. What investigation?”
Grant stood up slowly.
He looked at Vega for a long moment.
“Staff Sergeant Vega, you are relieved of training authority pending a formal investigation into allegations of misconduct.”
The words landed like a rifle shot.
Nobody moved.
Vega’s face went pale beneath his tan.
“Allegations from who?”
“Multiple sources.”
“Sir, I have never—”
“Save it for the hearing.”
For once, Vega had nothing to say.
The platoon stood frozen. The formation I had marched in for six weeks—the same men and women who had laughed at Vega’s jokes, who had watched him tear me down and done nothing—all of them suddenly looked like strangers in someone else’s nightmare.
Daniels stepped forward. “Sir, is she… is Mercer here as a recruit or—”
Grant cut him off. “That’s not your concern.”
“With respect, sir, it is.”
Grant’s gaze went sharp. “Explain.”
Daniels swallowed. “We watched her carry full load for eleven and a half miles. We watched her take every order Staff Sergeant Vega gave, including the ones that were… unnecessary. If she’s not a recruit, then she was here under false pretenses, and we deserve to know whether everything we did was also being evaluated.”
A murmur rippled through the formation.
I forced myself to sit up.
The medic grabbed my arm. “You need to lie down.”
“I need to say something first.”
“You need medical—”
“Mercer.” Grant’s voice was sharp. “You’re in no condition to address the formation.”
“With respect, sir, they’re asking what this was. They deserve the truth.”
“Your medical status prevents—”
“The truth isn’t medical.”
Grant studied me.
The platoon watched.
Even Vega was waiting.
I pushed myself upright. Every muscle in my body screamed. The compression garment was still hanging open, exposing the scars. I didn’t bother covering them anymore. There was nothing left to hide.
“My name is Rowan Mercer.”
My voice cracked. I cleared my throat and tried again.
“My name is Rowan Mercer. I’m not just a recruit. I’m also a special investigator assigned to assess training conduct within this battalion.”
Daniels’ eyes widened.
Somebody cursed under their breath.
Vega’s face went gray.
“The assignment was intended to remain undercover. It wasn’t supposed to go this long. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”
“What happened to your shoulder?” Daniels asked.
I looked down at the scars.
“Eight months ago, I was assigned to a training support unit in North Carolina. A transport vehicle caught fire during a field exercise. Four of us were inside.”
The road was quiet enough to hear the insects in the treeline.
“I got out first. Two soldiers were still trapped. I went back inside.”
Vega’s throat moved.
“The second fuel tank ignited before we cleared the vehicle.”
I lifted my hand to my collarbone, tracing the edge of the scar without thinking.
“Seven weeks in the hospital. Three surgeries. Four months of rehabilitation.”
The platoon stared at me.
“The doctors told me my field career was probably over. An investigator from HQ approached me during my recovery. They saw something in my file. They asked if I wanted to prove the doctors wrong.”
Grant stood rigid beside me.
“I said yes.”
Voices exploded from the formation.
“You were a setup?”
“She was watching us?”
“Vega’s been—”
Grant raised one hand. Silence fell immediately.
“The assignment is terminated. Mercer’s role in this unit ends today. You will not discuss any of this outside this formation, under penalty of the Uniform Code of Military Justice.”
Nobody argued.
The medic finally pulled me back down onto the stretcher.
I didn’t fight this time.
As they lifted me, I looked at Vega.
He stood alone in the center of the road, his face unreadable.
“Your replacement will arrive tomorrow,” Grant told him. “You will cooperate fully with the investigators.”
Vega nodded slowly.
Then he looked at me one last time.
And he said, “You could have just told me.”
Something in my chest twisted.
“Would you have believed me?”
The question hung in the air.
He didn’t answer.
The ambulance doors closed, and I was alone.
—
The hospital bed was cold despite the August heat outside.
They had given me IV fluids. The burns had been cleaned, bandaged, examined by three different specialists who all wanted to know why I hadn’t reported the strain earlier.