It was terrifying.

The first floor of the TV station was one huge open plan area, filled with desks and glass partitions. The marines ran us through it towards the stairs at the back. Ran. I had shorter legs than them and I had to push myself to keep my place in the middle of the group. I didn’t want to slow them down.

The noise was deafening. Soldiers yelling at us, marines screaming orders, glass shattering. And all around me, the constant clatter of gunfire. I wanted to clap both hands over my ears, but I couldn’t: Garrett had told me to keep one hand pressed on his back the whole time, so that he knew I was still with him.

He was like a charging rhino in front of me, battering things out of the way. His strong back was my shield. But I still yelped and ducked as bits of glass and wood went flying on both sides of me. Desks were being shredded, glass was crashing to the ground, computer screens were sparking and tumbling as stray bullets caught them. The marines were incredible, whipping their rifles around and picking off enemies before I’d even seen them. But Master Sergeant Hadley was right, we were hugely outnumbered. There were only ten of us and at least three times that number of them. And this was only the first floor. This is what it’s like to be a soldier? How did Garrett do this every day?!

The marine behind me suddenly yelled a warning and pushed me to the left. Then he cried out and spun around, falling to his knees. Hot red erupted out of the side of his neck and splattered me. Then he clamped a hand over it and I saw blood pumping between his fingers. Oh Jesus!

Another marine grabbed his arm and helped him to a side room. Our group reformed, with me in the middle again, and we moved off. But my eyes were locked on the open door to the side room as the marine’s buddy struggled with gauze and bandages, trying to stop the bleeding. He took that bullet for me! I’m getting people killed! I wanted to weep. I never wanted any of this!

But if I didn’t keep going, millions were going to die.

We reached the stairs and started up them. The studio Aleksander was broadcasting from was up on the fourth floor. The marines were far better trained than the Lakovian soldiers and at first we had the element of surprise. We made it up to the second floor, then the third. But then our momentum started to fade: the soldiers were organizing and holding their ground. Another marine was wounded as we tried to cross the third floor. Then two more fell. Our group had shrunk by half. I saw Garrett’s face change, his jaw tight with tension. Our progress stopped completely. We’re not going to make it!

Suddenly, something smacked me in the chest. It was as if someone had punched me right in the middle of my body but I hadn’t seen anyone. I fell flat on my back.

I saw Garrett scream in rage and fire his rifle at someone on the other side of the room. I realized he was shooting the person who shot me.

The person who shot me. It echoed in my head. Oh God, I’ve been shot!

And then the pain hit me, spreading through my chest. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

Garrett turned, crouched... and suddenly I was being scooped up off the ground. He cradled me to his chest like a child, holding his rifle in his other hand, and ran with me through the room. I clung to him, my head on his shoulder, my whole torso throbbing.

There was a crash as he kicked over a desk. Then he gently laid me down behind it, where I was shielded from gunfire. The other marines fell back and joined us in our shelter.

Garrett hunkered down over me, searching my body armor for something. Then his big hands thrust underneath it and felt my body. I saw his shoulders slump in relief. “It’s okay,” he yelled over the gunfire. “It’s okay, you’re okay. The armor stopped it.”

I was too scared and in too much pain to answer.

“I know, it hurts like a son of a bitch. But you’ll be okay.” He leaned down and kissed me. Even amidst the gunfire and the destruction, as soon as his big body pressed close, I felt safe. I closed my eyes and for one brief, glorious second just allowed his kiss to take me away from everything.

He drew back and spoke in Master Sergeant Hadley’s ear. Hadley nodded in agreement and the two of them looked above us. The room we were in was double-height, overlooked by balconies on the fourth floor. And someone was shooting down at us from those balconies. That’s who had shot me. That’s why we’d stopped moving.

“Three men,” yelled Garrett. “What’s left of Lukin’s kill team. I recognize one of the bastards. He’s got them all up there, to make sure we don’t get to the studio. Someone has to sneak up there and take them out, or we’re stuck here.”

My eyes widened as I realized who someone was. “No!” I had this horrible, lurching certainty that if he left, he wasn’t coming back.

“I have to.”

“At least take some men with you!”

He shook his head and glanced at the remaining marines. There were only three left. “We need them to protect you.”

I gulped. The room had gone blurry. “Please don’t leave me!”

“I promise I’ll come back.” He leaned down and kissed me. Then he turned, ran out from behind the table, and was gone.