Half an hour later, he stepped out of the temporary barracks, no longer in his combat uniform. Instead, he wore a sharp navy dress uniform, every seam perfectly pressed. The single bar and three stars on his shoulder marked him as a Senior Fire Captain. The fierce edge he’d shown in battle was gone, and so was the gentleness Emmy always brought out in him. Now his features were all hard lines, his eyes cold and focused. He carried himself with a kind of authority that made people want to keep their distance. He was on his way to see Dean.
By the time Dean was brought to the hotel across from the military hospital, dawn was just starting to break. He was soaked through, looked beat up, but there was a restless fire burning in his chest.
Emmy.
She’d actually left with that man. She’d just walked away and left him behind.
After making it back over the border with the other hostages, Dean had rushed straight to the hospital, demanding to see Emmy. The guards at the door turned him away, then politely escorted him back here.
A young soldier was stationed outside his door, standing so straight he looked like he’d been carved from a block of wood.
“Mr. Sparrow, our captain will be here soon.”
Dean’s mouth twisted with irritation. He fixed the soldier with a hard stare. “Your captain? You mean James?”
The soldier didn’t even blink, just kept his eyes forward and said nothing.
Dean’s frustration only grew. He stalked right up to the soldier, voice tight with barely contained anger. “Who is he really? Special forces? Then why the hell is he pretending to be a firefighter in the city?”
“What gives him the right to take Emmy?”
“Answer me!”
No matter how much Dean pushed, the soldier didn’t budge. He stood there like a statue, silent as stone.
Eventually, maybe from being badgered so much, the soldier finally turned his head, his expression stubborn but respectful. “Mr. Sparrow, special forces or firefighters, they’re both heroes who protect our country. I hope you can let it go.”
Dean let out a sharp, humorless laugh.



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