The cafeteria buzzed with low conversation, the kind that didn’t reach beyond hushed tones and darting glances. Soldiers sat hunched over their meals, some speaking quietly, others lost in thought. The recent missions weighed heavy on all of them, but none more so than Razor and his team.

  They sat in the corner, away from the main crowd. The tray in front of Shadow lay untouched, his injured arm resting heavily on the table, wrapped tight in bandages. His face was set in stone, eyes focused on some distant point beyond the steel walls. The wound on his arm still throbbed, but it wasn’t pain that had his jaw clenched—it was frustration.

  Razor watched him quietly, his own meal forgotten. Across the table, Gator broke the silence first.

  “That thing back there…” Gator’s voice was low, heavy with the weight of what they’d seen. “It wasn’t just stronger. Smarter. Faster. It was leading them." His fingers drummed against the table, a restless beat.

  Whiz nodded slowly, his sharp eyes reflecting the tension that sat between them all. "It was like it... knew us. Watched us. Picked its moment."

  "It didn’t just send the Shadows after us," Maverick added, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. "It was using them. Directing them." His voice was hard, edged with disbelief. "It wasn’t just an animal. It was something else."

  Shadow’s fingers tightened around his fork, his face grim. “And it’s still out there."

  The words sat in the air, heavy and cold.

  Razor looked between his team, his eyes lingering on Shadow’s bandaged arm. He hated what he had to say next, but leadership wasn’t about comfort. It was about survival.

  "You’re sitting out the next mission," Razor said, his voice calm but firm.

  Shadow's head snapped up, eyes burning with disbelief. "What?"

  "You’re injured," Razor repeated, meeting his gaze without flinching. "You need time to heal."

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  A heavy pause settled over the table. Shadow’s hands balled into fists. "I can still fight."

  "It’s your arm, Shadow," Razor said, his tone like steel. "You can’t handle a rifle properly. If we go out there and that thing finds us again, I’m not risking anyone because you can’t pull a trigger fast enough."

  "It’s not that bad," Shadow shot back, his jaw clenched. "I’ve fought through worse."

  "Not against that," Razor said, voice low and edged. "Not against something that thinks. Something that plans. We need to be sharp, all of us. One mistake, and we’re dead."

  The table fell into uneasy silence. Shadow’s anger simmered beneath his skin, but it was Gator who broke the quiet first.

  "He's right, Shadow," Gator said, his voice laced with concern. "You almost didn’t make it back today. You need time."

  Maverick nodded, his arms still crossed. "It’s not weakness. It’s smart. We need you at full strength, or we all risk going down."

  Even Whiz, usually quiet, looked up. "They’re right. We all saw how fast it was. How it moved. It wasn’t a normal Shadow. If you’re not at your best, we’re all vulnerable."

  Shadow’s glare snapped from one face to the next, frustration burning hotter with every word. His voice was sharp when it finally came. "So I’m supposed to sit here? While you all go out there and risk your lives?"

  "It’s not about leaving you behind," Razor said, his voice steady but low. "It’s about surviving. I’m not losing anyone because we’re too stubborn to make the right call."

  Shadow stood abruptly, the scrape of his chair loud against the floor. "I’m not staying behind."

  The words were final, but the table held. The air between them bristled with tension, unspoken loyalty clashing with cold survival.

  "You think this is easy?" Razor asked, standing too. His voice didn’t rise, but it cut through the room like a blade. "You think I want to leave anyone behind? I’m not just protecting you, Shadow. I’m protecting all of us. We can’t afford another close call."

  For a long moment, Shadow didn’t respond. His chest rose and fell with quick, tight breaths, his fingers flexing as though searching for something to hold onto. The fight in him was raw, primal. But so was his fear.

  And Razor saw it.

  "I’m going," Shadow said, his voice hard, unyielding. "I’m not staying behind. Not while you're out there."

  The table was still, all eyes on Razor. The weight of command pressed down on him. Shadow’s pride. The team's survival. The threat waiting for them outside.

  Finally, Razor exhaled slowly, his jaw tight. He hated what he had to do, but he understood it.

  "Fine," Razor said. "But on one condition."

  Shadow’s eyes locked with his. "Name it."

  "You stay close. No charging ahead. No splitting off. You stay by my side, or you’re out."

  Shadow stared at him, his muscles tense, but after a long moment, he gave a single, reluctant nod. "Fine. But I’m coming."

  Razor nodded once, though the tension didn’t ease from his shoulders. "Good. We need you. But we need you alive more."

  The mood remained heavy. Gator let out a slow breath, leaning forward on his elbows. "Tomorrow’s gonna be hell. We need to be ready."

  "We will be," Shadow said quietly, though there was a flicker of doubt beneath the defiance.

  Razor caught it. He saw it in all of them. The fear. The uncertainty. The knowledge that the enemy they faced now was beyond anything they had prepared for.

  But they would still fight. Because that’s what they were trained to do.

  Maverick broke the silence. "We survive tomorrow, we figure out what the hell this thing is. How to kill it."

  Razor nodded slowly. "One step at a time."

  And with that, the conversation ended. The cafeteria buzzed around them, oblivious. But at their table, there was nothing but cold resolve.

  Tomorrow, they’d walk back into hell. Together.