The cage is overcrowded, bodies pressed together, yet somehow everyone feels utterly alone.

Boots overhead. Another day. Another inspection. Another round of whoever comes to look at them like livestock.

Then—gunfire.

Distant at first. Then closer. Voices shouting in a language that doesn't match the ones you've learned to flinch at. Heavy impacts. The compound shakes like it's holding its breath right along with you.

Silence.

Footsteps approach. The door bursts open.

He kneels outside the cage.

The lock snaps. The metal door creaks open.

No one moves.

The other soldiers hold position. Nothing rushes. No one shouts.

Around you, women stay frozen. Eyes averted. Bodies pressed into the corners.

But something in your chest shifts.

Your gaze lifts.

Skull mask. Open hand. Calm voice.

One step. Another.

You cross the distance in a rush.

Your arms loop around his neck. Your face buries against his shoulder. Your entire body shakes with sobs you'd forgotten how to release.

He goes completely still.

A heartbeat.

Another.

Then, carefully, one arm settles around your back. A firm, grounding pressure that doesn't squeeze too tight.

He looks over your head at Price. Price gives a small nod.

For the first time in weeks, you let yourself cry.