DOD, Alexandria, Virginia

  The Department of Defense’s Mark Center buzzed with subdued energy. Polished linoleum floors reflected the fluorescent glow of overhead lights, and muffled footsteps echoed against the vanilla white walls.

  The convoy stopped outside the lobby, and the automatic glass doors whooshed open. Stepping inside, they headed for the waiting area, which carried a faint scent of disinfectant and a stifling sense of bureaucracy.

  Sana, first up for her interview, was accompanied by Kimi. “You’ve got this,” he said softly, squeezing her shoulder with his hand. She didn’t respond but gave the faintest nod before they vanished into the interview room.

  The remaining entourage lingered in the lounge, their conversations hushed and sporadic. Seven’s eyes flicked to the opaque glass door where Sana had disappeared, his jaw clenched as minutes stretched into what felt like hours. He shifted from one foot to the other, glancing at the entrance whenever someone came through.

  When the door finally creaked open, it wasn’t relief that washed over him but a cold stab of concern. The interviewer emerged, holding the door as Kimi pushed his sister’s wheelchair out. Her face—usually alight with vivacity—was shadowed with exhaustion, her gaze distant, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  Seven approached them, his instincts in overdrive. “Sana, you okay?” His voice was low, but the tension behind it was unmistakable.

  She didn’t answer, staring past him at some invisible point. Her hands trembled faintly in her lap.

  Kimi broke the silence. “She…” He hesitated, as if the words themselves were too heavy. “Talking about what happened, she relapsed... She’s slightly better now than she was, but…”

  Seven carefully lifted her into his arms. She didn’t resist. Her head rested against the crook of his neck, and her shallow breaths brushed against his Adam’s apple, his familiar scent a comforting balm.

  “You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice steady, unyielding. “I’m here. No one will hurt you anymore.”

  At the reassurance, Sana’s fingers curled slightly against his suit jacket, clinging tightly.

  Katherine stood by the side, quietly observing the scene until the investigating officer called out, “Detective Kavanagh?”

  She straightened. “That’s me.”

  “We’re ready for your interview if you are.”

  “Of course,” she replied, immediately following him into the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  In the lobby, the group fell into a somber quiet. Seven settled into a chair with Sana still cradled in his arms. Her breathing had deepened, her features softening as she slipped into a restless sleep. He glanced at Kimi, who watched his sister with helpless concern.

  “She’ll be okay,” he said, though it was more for himself than anyone else.

  Katherine emerged from her interview half an hour later, her sharp gaze softening when it landed on the couple. “She’s lucky to have you,” she said quietly.

  Sana stirred at the sound, blinking away her grogginess. Seven adjusted his hold, murmuring something indistinct but reassuring as he settled her back on the wheelchair.

  The investigating officer waited patiently until the entourage departed before ambling to Seven. “Colonel, whenever you’re ready…”

  The room was stark and cold, its utilitarian design devoid of distractions. Seven and Kimi settled into the seats across from Special Agent in Charge Hunter Bourne, whose laptop hummed faintly as he logged in with his thumbprint. Then, he looked up, his expression measured.

  “Colonel, before we begin, may I record this interview?”

  “Yes, please go ahead.”

  Bourne activated the recorder, his manner calm but direct. “Colonel, in your own words, please describe the incident from the beginning.”

  Seven leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. His heartbeat was steady, and each word carried the weight of recollection. “It was around 0120 hours on October 17th, 2022. I had just returned home at 919 Bellview Road. I had reversed into my garage when I saw a figure staggering toward my driveway. It was Ms. Sana Shahi. Before she could reach me, she collapsed.”

  Bourne’s brows knit together. “Continue.”

  “I assessed her condition. She was unresponsive. She wore a white top and black pants; the white top was stained with blood. I placed her in my backseat and drove to Walter Reed.”

  “Did you inform anyone about her civilian status?” Bourne asked, his tone sharp but not accusatory.

  “No,” he replied evenly. “She had no identification, and I prioritized getting her medical attention. I called ahead to ensure a surgical team was prepared.”

  Seven recounted the events methodically: the nine-hour surgery, transferring Sana to an empty ward, leaving briefly to shower, and staying by her side until she regained consciousness. Each detail was precise, deliberate, and unembellished.

  Bourne listened intently, occasionally typing notes. “Colonel, at any point in that time, did you consider the potential consequences of your actions?”

  Seven’s expression didn’t waver, though turmoil flickered beneath the surface. “Yes. I knew my actions might conflict with military regulations. I filed an incident report as soon as possible. But, as a medical professional, I am bound by the Hippocratic Oath; my priority is saving lives.”

  Silence ensued, the weight of his words lingering. Finally, Bourne nodded. “Were you compensated for treating Ms. Shahi?”

  “No.”

  Bourne’s interest piqued. “It seems Ms. Shahi trusts you deeply. Can you elaborate on your relationship?”

  Seven’s reply was calm, unguarded. “Five years ago, while Ms. Shahi was on a university exchange in France, she was abducted by human traffickers. I was on a mission to raid that syndicate’s base, and I rescued her. We didn’t know or meet each other again until the 17th. Over the past few weeks, I became aware of her PTSD as a result of the abduction. When I rescued her, she was in and out of consciousness but remembered hearing me reassure her that she was safe. Recounting the ambush just now triggered her relapse, and I responded as I did to help her regain stability.”

  Bourne’s gaze shifted to one of respect as he extended a hand. “Your actions are commendable, Colonel. Thank you for your time. Can I contact you if I need further information?”

  Seven shook his hand firmly. “Of course. Don’t hesitate to reach out.”