Chapter 776:
The operation dragged on for nearly ten hours, but when it ended, Rylie had saved the only witness left alive.
A collective sigh filled the room, heavy with relief.
“At last, our efforts bore fruit. We have preserved a vital witness.” The leading doctor followed Rylie out of the emergency room, removing his blood-stained mask. His face showed exhaustion, but more than that, a profound sense of gratitude and relief.
He drew in a deep breath before speaking. “Dr. Owen, we owe you more than we can say. Without your timing and resolve, we’d have lost him — the last chance we had.”
With a piece of candy between her teeth, Rylie gave a faint nod. “The media will broadcast this nationwide soon. Make sure someone keeps close watch on him.”
The doctor answered with conviction, “We’ll monitor him around the clock.”
Hattie guided her through the cordoned port. “Admiral Morgan is at the docks. The Everswell has been hauled in, and the bodies recovered from the sea. It’s a grim sight. Do you want to rest first?”
Rylie shook her head. “The dead don’t frighten me. Take me there.”
As they neared the berth, the air pressed heavy around the soldiers. Gunpowder and fuel clung to the damp wind.
The rain had lightened, but the gusts still cut across their faces, flinging cold spray at every step.
From a distance, Rylie caught sight of a figure she knew well. He stood alone at the edge of the dock, facing the Everswell, dragged ashore and left as a twisted, hollow shell.
The ship’s spotlight slashed through the dark in stark white, spilling across the row of black body bags lined before Brad. The light stretched into the shadows, the scene both raw and unbearable.
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Some zippers lay open, exposing faces once full of purpose, now drained of color under the glare.
Brad remained upright in his rain-soaked uniform, the stars on his shoulders dulled beneath the beam.
No umbrella shielded him. Rain streamed off the brim of his hat and down his face, and he gave no sign of noticing.
Rylie halted, a painful tightness gripping her chest.
Hattie whispered beside her, “Admiral Morgan has been standing there ever since he returned, waiting for the bodies to be brought in. No one can convince him to rest.”
Rylie drew in the cold air and glanced at Hattie. “Give me the umbrella. You go on ahead.”
She took it from her, watching him for a long breath before walking forward. “Brad,” she called softly.
He turned, the harsh light cutting across his jaw, his profile carved deep in shadow and glare. His lips were pressed hard together, his eyes carrying the storm he struggled to hold back.
He had seen war and casualties before, but the loss of thirty lives to his own misjudgment tore at him, fraying his composure. Heat coursed through his body like fire, pain spreading from his chest to his limbs. His lips had lost their color.
.
.
.