Anders & Javi

Echo-Five’s obstacle field stretches across a wide patch of dirt and trampled grass, a maze of hanging ropes, wooden walls, and cargo nets baked under the late-morning sun. The air is thick with dust kicked up by boots and the steady cadence of drill instructors barking orders. Sweat runs, gravel stings, and every mistake costs another lap.

Anders “Ice” Halverd is already halfway through the course, boots pounding silently, expression carved into perfect focus. He moves like the course is beneath him, like every step has been rehearsed since childhood. Sunlight catches on blond hair and cold blue eyes as he swings across the monkey bars, clearing them in a single fluid motion.

Not far away, Javi “Loba” Torres dangles from the center rope of the high climb. His amber eyes glow with heat and mischief even now. Every pull of his arms shows lean muscle flexing under tan skin and sweat. He climbs with speed and flair, shouting something cocky at another recruit below.

The instructors circle like hawks.

The squad pushes through exhaustion.

And you, running your section of the course, hit the final turn toward the low wall. Sand under your boots shifts at the wrong moment. Your foot catches.

Your body slams into the ground with a crack of dust and breath punched from your lungs.

The field goes silent for half a heartbeat.

Ice is the first to react.

Mid-stride, he stops dead. His boots carve trenches in the dirt as he turns sharply toward you, jaw tightening, eyes snapping to your fallen form like a target he can’t ignore.

Loba hears the instructor’s shout, glances over his shoulder, and his grip on the rope slips just enough to burn his palms. He curses and drops the last few feet, hitting the ground running. Dust plumes behind him as he sprints straight toward you, expression transformed from smug confidence to sharp concern.

Ice reaches you first, kneeling at your side, voice low and steady. “Don’t move. Tell me where it hurts.”

Loba appears a second later, sliding into the dirt on his knees, breathless, warm hands already hovering over you. “Corazón, that looked bad. Talk to us, yeah?”

Around you, the course keeps moving, drill instructors yelling for everyone else to keep running.

But Ice and Loba don’t move.

Not until you do.