Chapter 70
Adriana POV
“Tell me again why we’re not assuming this is a trap.”
Mateo adjusts the rifle strap on his shoulder as he scans the desert road through binoculars.
“Because if it is a trap,” Camille says dryly, “we’re already standing in the middle of it.”
The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, but the horizon is beginning to glow with thin orange light. The desert around us is quiet except for the low hum of engines from the armored vehicles hidden behind the ridge.
Our people are waiting.
Watching.
The convoy should appear any minute.
I stand beside Raymond at the edge of the overlook, looking down at the empty stretch of highway cutting through neutral territory.
Twenty-two vehicles.
Armored escorts.
A sealed transport container in the middle.
Everything about the formation screamed military.
Which is why we intercepted it.
Raymond checks his watch.
“They’re late.”
“Two minutes,” Camille says. “You’re impatient.”
“War does that.”
Mateo suddenly stiffens.
“Movement.”
We all look toward the road.
Dust rises in the distance.
A long line of vehicles appears slowly through the morning haze.
Even from far away I can count them.
One.
Two.
Three.
More following behind.
Raymond lowers his voice.
“That’s them.”
I lift the radio.
“All teams ready.”
A chorus of quiet confirmations answers through the comms.
Camille crouches beside the ridge and loads her rifle.
Mateo cracks his neck.
“This had better be worth waking up at sunrise.”
The convoy gets closer.
Details sharpen.
The escort vehicles are lighter than expected.
Older models.
Not Damian’s usual military transports.
Raymond notices it too.
“That’s strange.”
“Don’t assume anything yet,” I say.
The lead vehicle approaches the narrow pass between the two ridges where our units are hidden.
“Now?” Mateo whispers.
“Not yet.”
The convoy slows slightly as it reaches the choke point.
Raymond looks at me.
I nod.
“Now.”
Mateo fires a flare into the sky.
The bright red signal explodes above the road.
Instantly our vehicles roll out from both sides of the ridge, blocking the highway.
Armed soldiers step onto the asphalt.
Weapons raised.
The convoy brakes hard.
Engines cut.
Doors stay closed.
The entire scene freezes in tense silence.
Raymond steps forward beside me.
“Stay behind me,” he murmurs.
“I outrank you.”
“Still saying it.”
We walk down the slope toward the road.
Camille and Mateo flank us with a squad of soldiers.
The lead driver’s door slowly opens.
A man climbs out.
He’s not wearing military armor.
Just a dust-covered jacket and protective goggles.
He raises both hands.
“We’re not armed.”
Mateo scoffs.
“Everyone says that.”
“Check the vehicles,” I order quietly.
Two soldiers move forward cautiously.
They open the rear door of the first transport.
And then stop.
“…Adriana?”
Something in his voice makes me walk faster.
“What is it?”
He steps aside.
Inside the vehicle—
People.
Not soldiers.
Civilians.
Men and women wrapped in blankets.
A child clutching someone’s arm.
Another soldier opens the next truck.
More people.
Not weapons.
Not fighters.
Refugees.
The tension on the road shifts instantly.
Mateo blinks.
“…what?”
Raymond moves to the third vehicle and opens the back.
Instead of passengers, the interior is packed with medical crates.
Bandages.
Medication.
Portable surgical kits.
Humanitarian supplies.
Camille whistles softly.
“Well.”
I turn back to the driver.
“Explain.”
He lowers his hands slowly.
“We’re from the International Relief Coalition,” he says.
Raymond frowns.
“That organization operates officially through neutral zones.”
“Yes.”
“Then why the secrecy?”
The man hesitates.
Before he can answer, a woman climbs down from one of the trucks behind him.
She’s wearing medical scrubs under a long coat, hair tied back tightly.
Her expression is calm but firm.
“Because if certain governments knew where these supplies were going,” she says, “they’d never have made it past the border.”
I study her.
“You’re a doctor.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re bringing aid to a war zone.”
“To civilians trapped inside it.”
Mateo folds his arms.
“You mean civilians under our control.”
The doctor doesn’t flinch.
“Yes.”
Raymond glances at me.
“Adriana…”
I look at the trucks again.
Dozens of refugees sitting quietly inside.
Tired.
Hungry.
But alive.
“How many?” I ask.
“Forty-two people,” the driver answers. “And enough medical supplies to support two field hospitals.”
Camille looks impressed.
“That’s not small.”
“No,” the doctor agrees. “It isn’t.”
I walk closer to the truck.
A little girl inside looks up at me curiously.
Not afraid.
Just curious.
“You knew we might intercept you,” I say.
The doctor nods.
“Yes.”
“Then why risk it?”
Her answer is simple.
“Because someone has to.”
For a moment the road is quiet again.
Then Raymond says quietly beside me,
“The world might not hate you as much as Damian wants you to believe.”
I glance at him.
Then back at the convoy.
For months every broadcast, every headline, every political statement has painted me as a monster.
A terrorist.
A destabilizing force.
And yet here these people are.
Driving straight into a war zone.
To help civilians under my protection.
Hope is a dangerous feeling.
But right now it pushes gently against the walls I built around myself.
I turn to the driver.
“You’ll have safe passage,” I say.
Relief floods his face instantly.
“Thank you.”
Mateo raises an eyebrow.
“You’re letting them through?”
“Yes.”
“Even though we didn’t know what they were carrying?”
I gesture toward the trucks.
“Now we do.”
Camille smiles faintly.
“Good call.”
Raymond signals our soldiers.
“Clear the road.”
The barricades move aside.
Engines start again.
The convoy prepares to continue toward the refugee sectors under our protection.
The doctor approaches me before climbing back into her truck.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
“You’re helping civilians,” I reply. “That’s reason enough.”
She hesitates.
Then says,
“There’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
She glances around briefly to make sure no one is close enough to hear.
Then lowers her voice.
“You’ve been injured recently.”
It’s not a question.
“Part of the job,” I say.
“And exhausted.”
“That too.”
Her eyes study me with the careful precision of someone trained to notice details others miss.
“You should have a medical checkup.”
“I have medics.”
She shakes her head slightly.
“Not for what I’m thinking.”
Something in her tone makes my attention sharpen.
“What do you mean?”
She hesitates again.
Then says quietly,
“Your symptoms could be stress.”
“And?”
Her voice drops even lower.
“Or something else.”
A small pause.
Then she adds,
“You might want to rule out the possibility of pregnancy.”
The words land like a stone in still water.
For a second I don’t react.
Then I blink.
“That’s… unlikely.”
“Maybe,” she says gently. “But not impossible.”
She hands me a small sealed medical test kit.
“Just in case.”
I stare at it for a moment.
Then take it slowly.
The doctor offers a polite nod and climbs back into the truck.
The convoy begins moving again.
Raymond walks up beside me as the last vehicle passes.
“What was that about?”
I slip the small package into my jacket pocket.
“Medical advice.”
He studies me for a moment.
“You look like someone just told you something surprising.”
“Not surprising,” I say carefully.
“Just… unexpected.”
He raises an eyebrow.
I don’t elaborate.
The convoy disappears slowly down the road, heading toward the safe zones beyond the hills.
Raymond watches it go.
“Not a bad outcome,” he says.
“No.”
For the first time in a long while, it feels like the world might not be entirely against us.
But as the dust from the convoy fades into the morning air…
My hand briefly brushes the small object in my pocket.
And a single quiet thought lingers in the back of my mind.
Just in case.