The Bomb and the Weight of My Choice

Rita clutched her face, stunned.

I shook my stinging wrist, my voice cold as ice. "Have you lost your mind?"

...

I held up the mission roster for all to see, the schedule and signatures unmistakable. "Last night's lead operator was you, Rita. I was on mandatory rest after a 72-hour special op. My name isn't on this list."

The crowd erupted, their anger finding a new target.

"Right! Mary just got back from the Red Scorpion mission, defusing three linked mines. She could barely stand."

"Rita, you always hide behind Patrick's protection, dumping the worst jobs on her. Now you screw up and want her to take the fall?"

"You're disgusting, dragging others down with you!"

The accusations hit Rita like a barrage of stones. Her face drained of color, and she collapsed in despair.

Just then, a military SUV screeched to a halt at the cordon. Clifford Wilson and Patrick stepped out with grim expressions.

Patrick and I were once the military's golden couple, envied by all. But now, his gaze slid past me without a flicker of recognition.

He rushed straight to Rita, draping his jacket over her and pulling her into his arms.

"Don't be scared. I've got you," he said, his voice softer than I'd ever heard. "I won't let anything happen to you."

My heart turned to ice because in my past life, he'd said the same thing. "Rita was just nervous. She is gifted. You should help her grow."

Now he displayed his bias for all to see. The crowd watched with anger and disdain.

Clifford's gaze cut between us before he summoned me to the command vehicle. Once inside, his stoic façade crumbled, revealing panic in his battle-hardened eyes for the first time.

"I don't care about the protocols!" he roared, slamming his fist on the map table, rattling the equipment. "You have to save that server. If it goes, our entire unit will face a firing squad."

I met his bloodshot eyes calmly. "General, I'll try."

He paused, looking at me, and I continued, "But I have a request."

I pulled a document from my pocket and handed it over. It was Patrick's signed approval for Rita's Special Talent Field Application.

The word "talent" now seemed bitterly ironic.

"Patrick approved her operation," I said. "I'm not cleaning up this mess alone. He needs to pay for his so-called innovation."

Clifford's eyes narrowed. He snatched the paper, scanned it, and slammed it down.

"That fool!" he bellowed, nearly tearing the roof off. "You have my word. His expert promotion is dead. All his advancement paths are frozen as of today."

My lips curved into a cold smile. I picked up a pen and signed the mission exemption and liability waiver, sealing Patrick's fate.