"Get out! All of you, out!"

The driver was yanked out and struck across the head with a rifle butt, blood spilling instantly.

We were forced out of the truck bed.

The young man with glasses clutched his laptop desperately, refusing to let go.

"This is company code… I can't give it up…"

A gunshot rang out.

The bullet struck the ground beside his feet, sending up a spray of dirt.

The young man collapsed in terror, and the laptop was ripped from his hands.

My bag was taken too.

Passport, cash, water, food. Everything was gone.

One of the bandits searched me, his rough hands rummaging through my jacket pockets.

He found my phone.

He glanced at it, a cheap phone with a cracked screen.

With a look of disgust, he tossed it back into my arms.

"Get lost!" He shouted in English.

They drove off with the pickup, taking everything with them.

Five of us were left behind in the pitch-black wilderness.

The cold wind cut into my face like blades.

The middle-aged woman broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

"It's over… we're going to die out here…"

I picked up my phone and wiped the dust from the screen.

It still worked.

I looked up at the stars and found the North Star.

"Astara Gate is north."

I zipped my jacket all the way up, covering my chin.

"Let's move. Unless you want to freeze to death."

I was the first to step forward.

The ground was uneven, every step like walking on blades.

But I knew I couldn't stop.

Adrian's car was probably nearing the border by now.

He and Sophie were sitting in a warm cabin, drinking hot water, eating chocolate.

And I was out here in the wilderness, surviving like a stray dog.

A kind of hatred I had never known began to burn in my chest.

Sharper than the cold, stronger than hunger.

It kept me moving, one step after another.

We walked through the entire night. At dawn, we finally reached a road. A sign pointed toward Astara Gate. Thirty kilometers left.

The soles of my shoes were worn through, each step piercing with pain.

The young man had developed a fever and was being carried by the middle-aged man.

We were ragged and filthy, like a group of beggars.

A relief truck marked with a red cross pulled over, and a volunteer jumped down. "Do you need help?"

At the sound of his native language, the middle-aged man dropped to his knees and broke down.

Once on the truck, I devoured half a bottle of water and some bread.

Being alive felt… good.

We reached Astara Gate by noon. It was packed with people.

I stood in the lost documents line when my phone suddenly vibrated. The signal was back.

Dozens of messages flooded in. All from Adrian.

"Where are you? Why isn't your phone going through?"

"There's a document missing from the passport folder. Is it in your bag?"

"Call me back when you see this! Are you trying to get us killed?"

I let out a cold laugh. The only thing he cared about was the document.

I started a video call. Adrian sat in a luxury hotel lobby, well-dressed, while Sophie sipped coffee beside him.

"Clara! Where's the document? Customs is checking. Send me a photo now!"

I raised my phone, showing him my disheveled, mud-streaked, bloodied state, the refugee camp and barbed wire behind me.

Adrian froze for a second. "What happened to you? Forget that. Where's the document?"

"My bag was stolen. The document's gone."

"How could you be so useless!" Adrian snapped. "That file involves equipment worth tens of millions!"

Sophie leaned closer. "Clara, how could you be so careless…"

Looking at the two of them made me sick.

"Adrian, I ran into bandits last night. Someone died right in front of me. I walked thirty kilometers. My shoes are worn through." I tilted the camera down to show my bloodstained shoes.

Adrian frowned. "That's enough. Stop playing the victim. Sophie's running a fever from the shock too. Since you're alive, figure out a way to get to Braska and fix this."

I laughed in anger, tears spilling over.

"Adrian, listen carefully. I'm not going to Braska to find you. When I get back, we're getting divorced."

Adrian sneered. "You're throwing a tantrum at a time like this? Are you done—"

A deafening explosion cut him off.

The checkpoint in the distance exploded, the shockwave throwing people to the ground.

My phone flew from my hand, Adrian's terrified face frozen on the screen.

Then everything went black.

I thought I was dead.

But pain dragged me back.

When I opened my eyes, all I saw was the white ceiling of a tent, the sharp smell of disinfectant filling my nose.

"She's awake! She's awake!" a nurse shouted.

I moved my fingers. Pain shot through my body as if I'd been torn apart.

My left leg was in a cast, suspended in the air.

My head was wrapped in thick bandages.

"This is a temporary medical station in Vespera," a doctor in a white coat said as he stepped closer, shining a light into my eyes.

"You're lucky. The blast knocked you unconscious, but there were no fatal injuries. Just a fracture in your left leg and a mild concussion."

I tried to speak, but my throat was too dry for any sound to come out.

The nurse dabbed my lips with a damp swab.

"Thank you," I managed to whisper.

"Where are your companions?"

the doctor asked.

I wanted to shake my head, but the pain stopped me.

"I don't have any," I said. "I'm alone."

The doctor sighed and made a few notes.

"Get some rest. The embassy staff will come later to register your information and arrange your return."

I stayed in the medical station for two days.

During those two days, I saw many people.

Children who had lost their families. Wives searching for their husbands.

But I didn't look at my phone even once.

They had recovered my phone after the explosion. The screen was shattered, but it still powered on.

I turned it off and shoved it under my pillow.

On the third day, embassy staff arrived.

They verified my identity and issued me a temporary travel document.

"Ms. Hart, there's a Mr. Foster looking for you," the staff member said, glancing at the list in his hand.

"He says he's your husband. He's outside the quarantine area right now."

Hearing his name didn't even quicken my heartbeat.

There was nothing but a hollow, lifeless calm.

"I won't see him," I said.

The staff member froze for a moment.

"He's very anxious. He said if you're alive, we have to tell him."

"Then tell him I'm dead," I said, closing my eyes. "Or tell him I don't know who he is."

The staff member coughed awkwardly.

"I… don't think that's possible. He's listed as your next of kin. And he's already forced his way in."

Before he could finish, the tent flap was yanked open.

Adrian rushed in.