The smell of hay and the chill in the October night air reminded Isabel of her youth. The last days before winter meant hot apple cider and frolicking through leaves. Everything was different now, of course. Isabel was no longer a child and the night sky that dazzled with stars also rang with the sounds of bullets flying and cries of the wounded.

Each moment was a death knell, a life extinguished too soon.

She rolled herself behind a hay bale larger than her own petite frame. The bullets don't sound like bullets, she thought. After a while, the sounds of pain and defeat became surprisingly easy for Isabel to ignore. She wondered if the others all became numb too.

Thirty minutes had passed. If I'm not back in twenty minutes, go on without me. Izzie, I love you. His voice echoed in her head. The last thing Ian told her before he ran out of the barn and into the unforgiving night was that he loved her. The kiss on her forehead still lingered like a promise.

Isabel knew he'd come back for her. He had to. What would she do without him?

She patted the thick vest that was supposed to protect her from being shot through the heart or stomach, but the consolation it brought was of little comfort. Safety was an illusion. An attack on enemy territory under the cover of the night always meant some wouldn't survive.

He hadn't wanted her on this mission. "I can do it." Isabel's confident voice was reassuring as her gear was strapped on and she was fitted for combat. "I'm stronger than I look and I can sneak around faster than guys three times my size."

She was stubborn and headstrong, but her bravado had only gotten her as far as this. Isabel cowered behind haystacks, pondering her next move. The enemy camp announced itself in a brazen way, with fire and armed soldiers standing in front of the structure.

Isabel didn't care about the bags they'd come to reclaim, but they were valuable to Ian. The feisty brunette wasn't one to ignore a challenge or injustice. Ian had never told her exactly what they were taking back, only that it meant the world. It couldn't fall into the hands of the other side.

Somehow, it had gone too far.

Ian wasn't coming back, and the knowledge tore through her like a searing blade. She was alone and shivered with the grief suffered only by those left behind.

"Ian!" Isabel's desperate voice fell onto the tiny microphone connected to the almost invisible bud tucked inside her ear. "Ian, please tell me you're safe. I need you to be okay. I need you to--"

Her voice faded into nothingness, a choked sob of fear and despair lodged in her throat. It lingered like an unmovable lump. When he didn't reply, she immediately thought, They've got him, and now, they're coming for me.

The sound of footsteps marching on fallen leaves announced she wasn't wrong. Panic flooded her veins as Isabel drew her weapon, starting a slow, quiet belly crawl toward the entrance. Isabel lurked in the shadows. She felt like the victim in one of those creepy horror movies, the sort where people are stupid enough to go into the woods at night.

She was nothing if not a creature of instinct. The moment she saw a pair of black boots near her small tan hands, both her eyes and her rifle rose. Isabel could only think of Ian and how he must have suffered.

The night blurred as the noise of her rifle rang out against her enemies. One. Two. Three. They were all intelligent, viciously directed kill shots.

It took her a moment to realise she was not the only one shooting. When she felt the sharp searing pain just above the collarbone, Isabel knew. They'd gotten her, but it wasn't a capture they were looking for. Ian was at least worth some leverage. She was disposable.

The last burst of adrenaline surged through the pain, and she aimed her rifle perfectly at the throat of the man who shot her. The thud of a heavy weight and a groan told her she'd avenged her own demise. Ian would want that.

Isabel managed to roll herself behind the hay bale, gritting her teeth with every movement. "Shit, that hurts." 

She wasn't thinking quietly this time. Instead, she heard the whispered words and the sound of her own voice. Isabel refused to cry, refused to show weakness, but she clutched her neck with a contorted face. Only a sliver of light let her see her hand, the alarming crimson stain her wound had left upon it. She was too tired to fight anymore. Isabel had done her part.

She let herself drift until the sound of familiar footsteps hit her ears with a jolt. "Ian! You're alive. Please tell me you're really here?"

Ian immediately dropped the bags, and she looked up with her dark eyes as he fell to his knees. "Izzie! Are you alright? This was a smart place to hide. They got me and the microphone, but I made it." Ian grinned proudly at the two black duffel bags, the prize worth fighting for. "It's over now, sweetheart. We won!"

Isabel embraced him, smiling weakly, a dazed look in her eyes. "Ian, you'd be so proud of me. A group of them spotted me. There was nowhere to run or hide, but I took four of them down. Clean shots, one after the other. I told you I was up for this."

He clutched her hand, kissing her lips in celebration. "I never doubted you. I only wanted you safe."

Isabel snickered, her hand moving to stroke his cheek. "You know I love you, but you have to stop treating me like a little doll. I don't break that easily."

She panicked at the way Ian didn't smile back. His hand grabbed for hers almost ferociously. "Izzie! No!"

He shook his head as if trying to deny the crimson stain on her hand, his eyes following to the angry colour just above her collarbone. "Oh, my God. Izzie, you're hurt. We never should have brought you."

Ian quickly tried to pull off her vest, though she protested. "What's in the bags? Did we get everything we needed?"

He nodded, his eyes filling with tears. She knew he could see the small ruby marks everywhere. Most were superficial, but he knew what it meant. "Ian!" Her voice calls him back to reality. "It's alright. We all make sacrifices for something greater."

Ian's injured arm hit the hay bale with all of the force in his body. "Not you, Izzie. People make sacrifices, but not you." He wipes his eyes, red mixing with tears as he strokes her hair. "I'd die to protect you. It's not the other way around."

She shook her head no, surprised at how old-fashioned he could be. "Why not? Do you think I love you any less?"  His head drooped at her words, realising his hypocrisy. "What's in the bag? Is the loot safe?"

Ian moved a little, crawling toward one of the black duffel bags. "It's all here. We got everything back. There was only one thing worth fighting for, Izzie."

He crawled back over to her, crimson tears making him look like a watercolour painting as he knelt in front of her. Isabel saw his hands trembling as he opened a small black box. "I'll fight for you my whole life. Isabel Marie DeLuca, will you marry me?"

Isabel's eyes landed on the small ring, the way it sparkled in the darkness like one of the stars in the sky. She tried to sit up, but Ian shook his head. A tear rolled down her own cheek, stinging a bit. "Of course I will. I'll be there to fight beside you, always. "

The lump returned to her throat as the chivalrous young man slid the ring over her crimson-stained finger. She felt his arms move around her bruised body. Isabel winced but leaned in to kiss him. Love was an antidote for pain.

The pair stayed locked together until time itself was frozen. A bright light suddenly filled the barn, and Isabel pushed herself to her feet. She looked at the bruises, welts, and angry red marks covering her skin, and said cheekily, "If you can love me looking like this, I think we'll be okay."

She quivered as Ian helped her up, her muscular legs wobbling. Her eyes took a moment to focus as her legs finally stopped trembling. She laughed as she looked at the group huddled together in the doorway.

They were all dressed in black, sporting dirt, bruises, rifles, and the angry blood-red stains of the night. Some were also decorated in yellow, blue, and purple, the tell-tale splatter of violent paintball war.

She displayed her new ring with pride, clutching Ian's arm. She chuckled as someone took a photo.

Isabel grinned. "I said yes. I told you, I'm stronger than I look."

Word Count: 1496