The silence stretched between them in the impossible space of Noah's mind, heavy with the weight of unspoken horrors.
Bruce stood at attention, but his military bearing couldn't hide the tremor in his hands or the way his eyes kept darting away from Noah's face, as if eye contact might shatter what little composure he had left.
"Six...yes, six days ago," Bruce began, his voice barely above a whisper. He scratched his head, seemingly at odds with his own memory, "my team was sent to investigate missing mining crews. Standard reconnaissance. Should have been routine."
Noah watched the soldier's face carefully, noting how Bruce's jaw clenched with each word, how his breathing became shallow when he spoke. This wasn't just a mission briefing—this was a confession.
