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“Aaron, did you hear that?”

He shook his head. “We have to keep moving, Bryn.”

But I didn’t move an inch. Instead, I strained my ears, trying to catch the sound I’d heard.

There.

A whimper.

Coming from a building we’d already searched.

I pushed the door open again, this time to find a small child shaking at my feet.

I scooped them up, stepping inside the building, keeping a distance from the windows.

“Where did you come from?” I whispered, rubbing their back up and down, trying to soothe them from the chaos of gunfire in the distance.

The child lifted their finger, pointing toward the back of the building.

“Aaron, at the back,” I whispered, jerking my head toward where the child had pointed.

Aaron walked to the back wall, looking for signs of a hiding spot. “There.” He pointed to a spot on the floor where the dirt had been disturbed in front of a shelving unit. He signaled to the shelving, and I gently placed the child on the floor, lifting my finger to my lips to tell them to stay quiet, raising my gun toward the back wall.

Thankfully, the child stayed silent, clutching my leg.

Aaron ran his hand along the top and sides of the shelves, then swung the entire furniture piece out like a door.

I held my breath, my finger resting on my trigger, ready to pull it.

But the only thing behind the secret door was two more children, cowering in fear.

I immediately removed my finger from the trigger and swung my gun up onto my back, repulsed at myself for having pointed it at them.

“Civilians,” I said, unable to stop my voice from shaking.

I pressed the button to my microphone, alerting anyone who’d listen. “We have civilians here. We need to call off the air strike immediately.”

Aaron paced back and forth, looking at the children. “We need to go, Bryn.”

“We can’t just leave them here.”

“This isn’t part of the mission,” he argued, sadness heavy in his voice.

“Forget the mission,” I said as calmly as I could, trying my best not to frighten the children more. “I’m not leaving without them. They’re just children, Aaron.”

“Evans, do you copy? Bryn, do you copy?” the voice in my headpiece yelled at me.

“Yes,” I said, responding. “We have civilians here. Children. We need to call off the air strike. It’s not just the bad guys here.”

“Message received. We’ll take care of it,” the voice said. “Now get your ass back to the ridge.”

I looked at Aaron, knowing he had received the same command.

“I’m not leaving without them,” I repeated, sick with worry the strike wouldn’t be called off in time.

He nodded, scooping up the two children. “We need to hurry.”

I didn’t waver as I picked the child back up at my feet, sticking my head out the door to check the nearest rooftops.