The extraction had been brutal, but they had succeeded. The diplomat, trembling but alive, was safely aboard the plane. The Phantoms and the duo were climbing the ramp under the cover of suppressive fire when the next barrage of bullets came.
Gray's instincts screamed at her as she turned, her sniper rifle slung low across her chest. It happened in an instant—a single shot piercing the air, the sharp sound cutting through the chaos.
"Dale!" Rhys's voice carried over the comms, his tone edged with alarm.
Gray's eyes snapped to Dale, who staggered mid-stride before crumpling to his knees. Blood bloomed across his chest as his body shielded the diplomat, who screamed in terror.
"Get him in!" Gray shouted, her voice commanding but steady.
Another shot rang out, and Louise stumbled, her cry of pain drowned out by the roar of the engines.
"Ramp's closing!" Axel shouted, grabbing Louise and hauling her inside as the hydraulics whined.
The plane jolted as the ramp sealed, leaving the chaos outside. Axel collapsed against the side of the fuselage, his arm still supporting Louise. Gray dropped beside Dale, her hands already moving with precision.
"Axel, stabilize her," she barked, not even looking up.
Axel nodded wordlessly, his exhaustion clear but his movements deliberate. Phantom's field medic, he wasn't formally trained but had enough knowledge to get them through most injuries. He began working on Louise's leg, his face taut with concentration.
Gray tore away Dale's tactical vest and shirt with practiced hands. The bullet had struck high on the left side of his chest, dangerously close to his lung. Blood pulsed from the wound, dark and unrelenting.
"Damn it, Dale, you don't get to die here," she muttered, her voice low but firm.
"Status?" Rhys's voice came through the comms, tight with urgency.
"Critical," Gray replied. "The bullet's close to his lung. He's unconscious. Pulse weak. We need a surgical team waiting when we land. Call Elara Memorial."
Her mind raced as she assessed the damage, every second stretching into an eternity. Dale's breathing was shallow, each rise and fall of his chest a battle. She reached for the emergency med kit strapped to the wall and began applying pressure, packing the wound as best she could.
The others were silent, their exhaustion and the gravity of the situation leaving no room for words.
"Axel?" she called, her voice cutting through the tension.
"Bullet went clean through her leg," Axel said, his voice calm but strained. "She's stable for now, but she's lost a lot of blood. I've sutured the artery to stop the bleeding."
"Good," Gray said, nodding sharply. She glanced at Louise, whose face was pale but determined.
"I'm fine," Louise said, her voice weak but steady. "Just keep him alive."
Gray turned her focus back to Dale. Her mind was a controlled storm, calculating every possible outcome, every necessary action.
The minutes dragged as the plane sped toward Vaeloris. Gray didn't falter, her hands steady as she worked to stabilize Dale. She adjusted his oxygen mask, carefully monitoring his breathing.
The others sat in silence, their faces etched with fatigue. Rhys leaned his head back against the cold metal wall, his expression grim. Axel remained crouched beside Louise, his hands bloodied but steady.
Gray glanced at Dale's face, pale and slack. "Stay with me," she murmured, her voice softer now, almost pleading.
Axel shifted slightly, his voice cutting through the silence. "You're holding it together well, Doc."
Gray didn't look up. "There's no room for anything else," she replied. "He's going to need immediate surgery. Every second matters."
Axel gave a slight nod, his respect for her clear. "Understood."
The moment the plane touched down at the Elara Memorial's private airstrip, the medical team was already waiting. Gray didn't wait for anyone else to move; she coordinated with her staff, her voice firm and precise as she relayed Dale's condition.
"Chest wound, high left. Likely pneumothorax. Prepare for immediate thoracotomy," she instructed as the stretcher was wheeled into position.
Louise waved off assistance, limping out of the plane with Axel's help. "I'll be fine," she insisted. "Focus on him."
Gray walked alongside the stretcher, her composure unshaken. As they entered the hospital, she turned to the lead surgeon.
"I'll scrub in," she said.
Dr. Ivanov looked at her, startled. "Dr. Gray—"
"Don't argue," she cut him off. "I'll lead his surgery. I'm the one who kept him alive. He's in this operating room because of me, and I'll make damn sure he comes out of it."
Lara hesitated but nodded, recognizing the fire in her eyes.
As the doors to the operating room closed, the others were left behind, their faces heavy with exhaustion and worry. The mission had ended, but the battle was far from over.