Outside,
Scarlett and Sophia moved through final combat drills, their blades slicing
clean through the thick air, every strike purposeful. Each breath they took
felt heavier—like even the air knew what was coming.
Nearby,
Camila, Nyah, Izzy, and Naomi checked their weapons and gear. They moved like
professionals, smooth and efficient, but there was tension behind their eyes.
The kind that only came from caring too much.
Still,
they clung to flickers of normalcy.
A
sarcastic quip.
A
shoulder bump.
A
smirk shared between hands tightening on rifle straps.
But
they all felt it—
the
weight of what came next.
Sophia
paused, lowering her blade as she looked toward the jungle beyond the compound.
"It's starting to feel like every time we go out… it gets harder to come back."
Scarlett
wiped sweat from her brow, her voice quiet. "He hasn't said it, but I can see
it on him. Jeffrie's already carrying the worst outcomes in his head."
Sophia
nodded slowly. "We all are. But he hides it best."
A few
feet away, Naomi loaded a fresh mag into her sidearm, her fingers moving a
little too tightly.
"I saw
the way Trice looked at me before his last mission," she said. "Like he wasn't
sure he'd get to look again."
Izzy
smirked, but her eyes were anything but amused. "He looked at me like that too.
Then said something dumb like 'I'll be fine' before limping out of the med
bay."
Camila
glanced down at her rifle, checking the sights again. "Ray does the same.
Always with the cocky grin. Always brushing it off."
Nyah
leaned against the crate beside her, arms crossed. "You don't get to be scared
when the person you love keeps walking into hell. You just get used to it."
The
words settled in the air like smoke.
Scarlett's
voice broke the silence again, this time softer. "It's not the danger that gets
me. It's the idea of what happens to them if we don't come back."
Sophia
nodded. "And what happens to us if they don't."
They
stood like that for a while—shoulders close, weapons ready, hearts pulled in
too many directions.
No
more jokes.
No
more bravado.
Just
the quiet understanding of women preparing to fight for the ones they'd already
bled for.
The air shifted again—not from the jungle breeze, but something heavier.
It was subtle at first. Just a change in rhythm, like the jungle itself held its breath.
Jeffrie stepped into view.
No one called for him. No one had to. His presence alone turned heads.
Armor half-sealed, a blade slung across his back like he forgot where the rest of it went, and hair still damp like he'd rushed from a shower.
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "You look half-ready."
Jeffrie shrugged. "I'm fully aware and fifty percent dangerous. That's still more than most."
Ray and Trice trailed behind him, Ray already snorting.
"Man showed up like he rolled out of bed and challenged fate to a push-up contest," Ray muttered.
Jeffrie ignored them, glancing around at the group. He gave a slow, approving nod… then pointed at Naomi's belt.
"Your sidearm's on backwards."
Naomi blinked. "No it's not."
"I know," he said with a grin. "Just checking your reflexes. You passed."
Izzy groaned. "Jeff, we're trying to have a moment."
"That's why I'm here," he said, walking past them with exaggerated seriousness. "I heard there was too much emotional growth happening, and as your unlicensed morale officer, I'm here to prevent a full breakdown."
Lily approached from behind, her glow still faint from the blessings. She gave Jeffrie a look. "You're not helping."
"Lily," he said, placing a hand over his chest. "I am the help."
Scarlett crossed her arms. "You're also barefoot."
Jeffrie looked down. "...Damn. So that's why the dirt's been extra textured."
Trice smirked. "You good, bro?"
Jeffrie stretched his arms overhead, cracking his neck. "Physically? Fine. Mentally? Questionable. Emotionally? That's a group effort."
Camila muttered, "Remind me again why he's in charge?"
Sophia, finally smiling again, said softly, "Because even when everything's heavy... he knows how to carry it."
That quieted the group again, but the silence wasn't tense anymore.
It was warm. Grounded.
Jeffrie clapped his hands. "Alright. Morale check! On a scale from one to 'we're all gonna die,' how's everybody feeling?"
"Somewhere between mild anxiety and violent optimism," Izzy muttered.
"That's the spirit!" Jeffrie pointed at her. "Put that on a t-shirt."
Naomi snorted. "You making merch now?"
"Absolutely," he said. "First drop: 'Don't talk to me until I've had my abyssal coffee.' Second drop: 'Ray's ego is a war crime.'"
Ray pointed at him with mock offense. "I will dropkick you."
"You'll have to catch me first," Jeffrie grinned, immediately jogging backwards in circles like a terrible boxer. "Come on, champ, I'm already warmed up!"
Trice just shook his head. "This man used to command an entire strike team."
Jeffrie held up a finger. "Still do. Just… y'know… with more flair."
Scarlett folded her arms, barely holding in a smirk. "Flair? You're barefoot and your armor's half-on."
"Because I fight with style, Scarlett." He turned around, trying to spin-kick the air and immediately losing balance. "See? Intimidation."
Camila laughed. "You're gonna break your ankle before we even deploy."
"If I do," Jeffrie said from the ground, "I expect dramatic tears. Minimum one scream. Preferably from Trice."
Trice didn't miss a beat. "Bet."
Sophia, finally letting herself laugh, knelt beside Jeffrie and tapped his forehead. "You do know we're all half-freaking out, right?"
He nodded, serious just for a moment. "I know. That's why I'm doing this."
Then, with zero warning, he flopped onto his back like a starfish and shouted to the sky:
"I REGRET NOTHING!"
Nyah walked past, stepping over him with a smirk. "You're such a mess."
"I'm your mess," he called after her, still on the ground. "You're all legally stuck with me."
A few chuckles echoed through the clearing.
The tension didn't vanish—but it cracked. Just enough for them to breathe.
Just enough for them to smile again.
And Jeffrie, still flat on his back in the dirt, grinned up at the sky, knowing he'd done what he came to do.
Still on the ground, Jeffrie stared up at the sky for a beat longer, then sat up with a quiet sigh.
Everyone thought he was about to crack another joke.
But instead, he looked around at them—really looked.
His smile softened.
"I know I joke a lot," he said. "Mostly because if I didn't, we'd all be crying or punching something. Or both."
A few small chuckles rippled through the group, but they quieted just as fast.
Jeffrie's eyes drifted first to Ray and Trice.
"But for real… thank you. For following me all this time. I mean… twelve years."
Ray looked down, suddenly very interested in the dirt. Trice didn't say anything—but he nodded, just once.
Jeffrie grinned faintly, voice dropping a little.
"From the first day in that busted-up foster house, when none of us had anything but each other… you two were there. You stuck with me when we had no reason to. When it was easier to give up. When it got ugly."
Then he looked up at the rest of the group.
"And the rest of you… I don't even know when it happened. Somewhere between high school chaos, broken bones, stupid cafeteria drama, and trench runs through hell, you became my people."
He paused, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn't used to this kind of talking.
"You didn't have to follow me. Not through school. Not into the military. Not into any of this. But you did. Every step."
A long beat passed.
"I don't say it enough," he added quietly, "but I'm really damn glad I didn't have to do this alone."
Sophia's eyes softened.
Scarlett gave a small smile.
Izzy wiped at her eye and muttered, "God, why'd you have to go and get all sentimental, you nerd—"
Jeffrie grinned again, a little teary-eyed himself now. "Someone's gotta balance out all the cool."
Then he stood, brushing dirt off his pants.
"No more near-death speeches though. Next time I start talking like this, someone tackle me."
"I volunteer," Naomi said immediately.
"Of course you do," he muttered.
The quiet lingered beneath the dense jungle canopy, broken only by distant birdsong and the hum of solar generators somewhere near the supply tents.
Then Ray sniffed dramatically.
"I ain't crying," he muttered, rubbing his nose. "It's the humidity. My eyeballs are sweating."
Jeffrie turned his head slowly. "Brudda, we're in the shade."
Ray gestured wildly at the trees. "Yeah, jungle shade! That humidity hits different!"
Izzy snorted. "Sure. Let it out, Tarzan."
Trice, sitting on a crate nearby, let out a low chuckle. "Man's out here acting like the jungle betrayed him."
"I'm emotional!" Ray shouted, tossing a twig at him. "It's called depth!"
Jeffrie shook his head, biting back a grin. "You've got the depth of a kiddie pool."
Camila stretched her arms, already smiling again. "You said that like it's a bad thing."
"Better than drowning in our feelings," Nyah added, nudging Ray with her elbow.
Ray lifted his chin, proud. "Exactly. Shallow, hydrated, and emotionally functional."
"I literally saw you cry during that movie last week," Naomi said flatly.
"Okay, first of all—that dog didn't deserve to die!"
The whole group cracked up.
Jeffrie leaned against the support post of the comms tent, watching them with a faint smile.
This.
This was why he did it.
He let out a breath and reached into one of the nearby supply crates, rummaging through miscellaneous rations until he pulled out a crushed, half-melted protein bar. He held it up like it was sacred.
"Alright, I found it. The Chosen Snack."
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. "That thing looks like it's been to war."
"It has," Jeffrie said solemnly. "But like us… it survived."
He unwrapped it, took a bite with overly serious reverence, and raised his voice dramatically through the chewing.
"I'd die for every one of you."
Izzy rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "You better not. That's our job."
"Dibs on your armor if you do," Camila said.
Jeffrie pointed at her mid-bite. "Rude."
Sophia chuckled softly. "You say that like we're not all planning to be the one standing when this is over."
The laughter faded again, but this time it wasn't heavy—it was steady. Rooted. Like their boots in the jungle soil. Like the compound holding them together.
The sun began to slip behind the tree line, casting long streaks of orange and gold across the jungle canopy. Birds quieted. The compound lights hadn't kicked on yet, so everything sat in that strange stillness—between light and dark, between calm and whatever tomorrow would demand.
Trice lit the first lantern and hung it near the center of their gear circle. Its soft amber glow reached just far enough to make the shadows feel friendly.
Ray dropped onto a low bench with a grunt. "Permission to do absolutely nothing?"
Jeffrie tossed him a sealed ration pack. "Permission granted. But you still gotta eat that expired meatbrick."
Ray caught it and stared at the label. "This says 'suitable for emergencies only.'"
"Perfect," Jeffrie said. "You're emotionally unstable. That counts."
Camila and Nyah laid out their gear on a canvas mat nearby, organizing without urgency. Naomi leaned against the comms post, sipping from her canteen while Izzy took her boots off with a satisfied groan.
Scarlett and Sophia sat side by side on a low stone ledge overlooking the tree line. Neither spoke for a while. They didn't need to.
Jeffrie, now barefoot again, padded over to the edge of the clearing and looked up through the trees.
"You know," he said, voice softer now, "for all the crap we deal with, this place cleans up nice."
Sophia glanced over at him. "You gonna start quoting poetry now?"
"Maybe," he said. "But only the stuff that rhymes. I got standards."
Lily walked up from the med tent with a mug in her hands and handed it to him. "Here. Hydrate."
Jeffrie sniffed it suspiciously. "Is it holy tea?"
"It's ginger and lime, idiot."
"...Close enough."
They all spread out under the dimming sky, conversation quieting into low hums, the kind that came with shared exhaustion and comfort.
A breeze moved through the trees.
Somewhere deep in the jungle, night animals stirred. The scent of earth, leaves, and distant firewood wrapped around them like a blanket.
The fire was crackling low now, casting flickering shadows against the supply crates and steel mesh barriers around the clearing. The group had gone quiet—most staring into the flames, lost in thoughts they didn't want to say out loud.
Jeffrie stood slowly, brushing dirt off his pants.
He didn't ask for attention.
He didn't need to.
They all looked up the moment he moved.
He stood at the edge of the firelight, eyes distant, jaw tight.
Then he spoke—low, deliberate, and more serious than any of them had heard in weeks.
> "We are not soldiers born,
We are survivors carved from flame,
Each scar, a prayer the world tried to bury,
Each heartbeat, a rebellion against silence.
We walk through hell, not to conquer it—
But to make sure no one we love ever has to."
The words settled like ash over the camp.
Even Ray didn't joke.
Jeffrie looked around at them all, meeting each gaze, one by one.
"You guys joke that I'm the leader," he said quietly, "but I don't wear that like a badge. I carry it like a promise."
He stepped closer to the fire, letting the light touch his face.
"If any of you were to die—"
His voice caught for a second. He didn't look away.
"I would rather it be me."
No one moved.
"I can take it," he went on, steady now. "The pain. The guilt. The weight of it. I've trained for that. I've made peace with that."
He looked to Sophia, then Scarlett, then Naomi, Izzy, Nyah, Camila—one after the other.
"You all gave me something to fight for. So when we're out there… I don't care how bad it gets. I will not let any of you fall."
The fire crackled again.
Lily swallowed hard but said nothing.
"I don't care if I come back broken," Jeffrie said. "As long as you come back breathing."
No one spoke for a long time.
Scarlett blinked fast, eyes glassy.
Ray looked down, fists clenched.
Izzy, voice small, said, "You don't have to carry all of us alone, y'know."
"I don't have to," Jeffrie said. "But I will."
Sophia wiped at her eye. "That poem... did you write that?"
Jeffrie nodded once. "Had it in my head for a while. Never said it out loud until now."
Naomi leaned into Trice's side, quiet.
No one cracked a joke.
No one could.
Because for that moment, they remembered exactly who Jeffrie was.
Not just their leader.
But their shield.
The fire crackled softly.
Everyone was still caught in the weight of Jeffrie's words—until Ray stood up with a sniff.
"Nah. Nope. I've had enough of this," he muttered, marching toward Jeffrie with a purpose.
Jeffrie blinked. "Ray?"
Trice stood too, cracking his neck. "You had your moment, bro. You cried. We got it. Time for balance."
"What—?"
Ray and Trice lunged at the same time.
"Wait—WAIT—BRO I JUST GAVE A SPEECH—!"
But it was too late.
Jeffrie was tackled to the ground with a grunt, both foster brothers grabbing him by the arms and legs like it was some long-practiced ritual.
Ray nodded toward the water tank just beyond the compound fence. "Yeet protocol?"
"Yeet protocol," Trice confirmed.
Jeffrie flailed. "YOU CAN'T YEET THE COMMANDER—"
They did.
With a dramatic grunt and a team effort worthy of a mission briefing, they hurled Jeffrie straight into the jungle water basin with a loud SPLASH!
Water exploded upward.
The girls gasped.
Then laughed.
Lily facepalmed. "He just gave the most emotional speech of his life."
"And then got baptized by violence," Naomi muttered.
Jeffrie resurfaced, soaked, sputtering, and glaring at them with betrayal in his eyes. His shirt clung to him like a second skin.
Ray grinned down from the ledge. "You're welcome. That ego needed cooling."
"I swear to GOD," Jeffrie said, yanking the soaked shirt over his head and tossing it at them. "Y'all act like you don't fear death."
The shirt hit Trice in the face. "We live with you. That's already dangerous enough."
Meanwhile, Izzy, Camila, and Nyah were absolutely not hiding their amusement as Jeffrie dragged himself out of the water, shirtless and still muttering curses under his breath.
Camila leaned into Nyah. "Tell me again why we don't make him do pushups shirtless?"
Scarlett, biting her lip, said, "Might be the only time I support these idiots."
Jeffrie, now back on solid ground, lunged at Ray.
"Oh, we wrestling now?" Ray shouted, laughing as he dodged.
Trice joined in with a flying tackle—except Jeffrie sidestepped and he went into the mud pit instead.
Izzy was nearly crying from laughter. "They're supposed to be elite soldiers."
"They are," Lily deadpanned. "Just… selectively."
Sophia chuckled as Jeffrie and Ray rolled in the grass, throwing half-serious punches and arguing over who started it. Trice was trying to pull them apart and only getting sucked back in.
Naomi pulled out her phone. "This is going in the mission archive."
Jeffrie finally pinned Ray, breathless but grinning. "Next time you throw me in water, I'm dragging both of you to the abyss and leaving you there."
Ray just laughed, upside-down. "Worth it."
The wrestling didn't stop.
If anything, it escalated.
Ray shoved Jeffrie backward with a breathless laugh, only for Trice to leap onto both of them like a linebacker with a death wish.
"YOU WANNA THROW HANDS—THEN CATCH ALL THESE!" Trice yelled mid-air.
Jeffrie barely dodged. Ray didn't.
They landed in a heap, all limbs and curses, laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
"You fight like a baby possum!" Jeffrie barked, shoving Trice off.
Trice grinned, hair full of grass. "Possums survive, don't they?"
Ray grabbed a handful of dirt. "This is tactical sand! Prepare for blindness!"
"Don't you DARE—!" Jeffrie flinched, too late.
Ray flung it.
Jeffrie took it to the chest and stumbled back into the water with another splash.
From the sidelines, the girls were losing it.
Naomi was on her knees, doubled over. "I can't breathe—he got dirt-sniped!"
Izzy leaned on Lily, crying with laughter. "They've been through elite combat training and they're out here playing mud ninjas."
Lily sighed. "I gave them exact hydration and recovery instructions. And what do they do? This."
Sophia chuckled, crossing her arms as she watched the carnage. "This is recovery. Mentally."
Scarlett muttered under her breath, "Why is it hotter when they're stupid…"
"Right?" Camila agreed, watching as Jeffrie chased Ray in circles like a soaked jungle gremlin. "Tragic."
Back in the pit, Jeffrie finally caught Ray, tackled him into the shallow end, and dunked him.
"TRUCE, TRUCE!" Ray shouted, flailing.
"You called down the thunder," Jeffrie growled, holding him underwater for half a second more. "Now drown in your own chaos."
Trice climbed onto a log like a referee. "AND THE WINNER IS—PROBABLY NONE OF YOU."
Jeffrie collapsed on the grass, soaked and wheezing. Ray flopped beside him.
Trice sat between them with a grin. "Twelve years later and we're still just three dumb kids in a backyard pretending it's war."
Jeffrie laughed, coughing a little. "Except now we actually go to war."
Ray stretched his arms wide. "Then I say we enjoy the hell outta every minute in between."
The sky above them had gone from gold to deep purple, stars just starting to peek out through the canopy.
And for now, there was laughter.
There was family.
There was peace.
Even if it was loud, messy, and soaked in jungle water.