SEVEN MINUTES BEFORE DAWN
1. A Moonless Night
That night, the southern Afghan sky was moonless.
Only the desert wind howled through rows of half-collapsed mud houses, carrying with it the stench of old gunpowder, scorched sand, and dried blood. Lieutenant Ethan Cole, a Delta Force operator, pressed his back against a cracked earthen wall, fingers tightening around his HK416. His headset crackled—his teammates’ breathing blending with electronic interference.
— Delta One, standby. Thirty seconds.
Ethan didn’t respond. He glanced at the green glow of his wristwatch.
02:13 a.m.
It was the 417th night of an operation that officially did not exist. On paper, it was called high-value target neutralization. On the ground, it was simply an endless chain of blood-soaked raids.
Tonight’s target was a compound believed to be sheltering a mid-level Taliban commander. Satellite intel confirmed weapons, communications traffic. Orders were clear:
Erase the entire area.
Ethan used to believe in orders like these—at least during his first three years.
— Airstrike in five minutes if no abort signal.
The command voice was cold, detached.
They entered the village like ghosts. No gunfire. No alarms.
Until Ethan kicked in the first door.
There were no fighters.
Only women. Children. An old man gasping on a torn mat.
— Not the target.
— Pull back.
— Negative confirmation.
Too late.
An explosion tore through the night. The western house went up in flames. The shockwave slammed Ethan into the wall. His ears rang.
Through the smoke, he heard a woman screaming.
Ethan moved on instinct. He ran toward the burning wreckage. Flaming debris rained down on his shoulders. Through the chaos, he saw her.
Pinned beneath a collapsed beam, blood streaking from her forehead, eyes wide with terror.
— Please…
Her English was broken, but her eyes needed no translation.
Ethan didn’t think. He dropped his rifle and lifted the beam with everything he had. Fire licked his gloves, searing his skin. He dragged her free just as—
— Second strike in three minutes!
He pulled her into a dry trench as the building behind them disintegrated.
Fire lit the sky.
Ethan gasped for air. The woman trembled in his arms.
Her name was Layla.
2. The Forbidden
Layla survived that night by sheer miracle.
She had no husband. Most of her family had died in an airstrike the year before. She lived with distant relatives, teaching children to read the Qur’an in exchange for food.
Ethan was not supposed to return to the village.
But he did.
At first, it was “to ensure no intelligence leaks.” Then because he couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes—eyes that held neither hatred nor pleading, only confusion.
He brought medicine. Bandages. Clean water.
They spoke little. Layla knew limited English. Ethan knew only fragments of Dari. In war, silence often felt safer than words.
Their relationship was strictly forbidden.
U.S. soldiers were not allowed intimate contact with locals. No personal bonds. No emotional attachments.
But war never obeyed regulations.
One night, as flares burned over the hills, Layla shook with fear. Ethan sat beside her, set his rifle aside, and let their bare hands touch.
No words were spoken.
And that silence crossed every line.
3. Seven Minutes
The failed mission came six months later.
Ethan’s Delta unit was ambushed in a narrow valley. Faulty intelligence. Outdated maps. The enemy was twice their expected number.
Seven minutes.
Just seven minutes’ delay in calling close air support cost five men their lives. Two were critically wounded. One went missing.
Ethan survived.
Layla was nowhere near that battlefield.
But that same night, Ethan received emergency extraction orders. No explanation. No appeal.
Before boarding the helicopter, he returned to the village.
Layla was gone.
Only an old woman remained. She looked at him, placed a hand on her belly, then over her heart.
Ethan didn’t understand then.
He returned to America with an intact body—and a shattered mind.
4. Another Life
Five years passed.
Ethan married Emily, a military nurse. They had a daughter. A quiet suburban home. Family barbecues.
He tried to live like a normal man.
But war never leaves.
It lived in his dreams. In panic attacks at 3 a.m. In the way he watched his daughter sleep.
In the sixth year, Ethan was ordered back to the Middle East—not as a combatant, but as a military advisor.
“One last time,” he told himself. “Then I’m done.”
5. The Child at the Checkpoint
The checkpoint sat in the desert.
Blinding sunlight. Crowds pushing through. Children begging for water.
Ethan was observing from a distance when he saw the boy.
About seven years old.
The boy had a crescent-shaped birthmark on his left wrist.
Ethan froze.
That birthmark—he had it. His father had it. His grandfather had it.
The boy looked up.
Dark brown eyes locked onto Ethan’s.
For a moment, the world went silent.
The intelligence file arrived later like a blade to the chest.
Name: Yusuf.
Registered father: Rahim al-Saqar, emerging insurgent leader, high-priority target.
Blood type: O-negative.
A match.
6. A Truth with No Place
Ethan didn’t sleep for three nights.
He stared at tactical maps. Satellite images. The boy’s face.
If Rahim was eliminated, the compound would be flattened. No “collateral damage” would appear in the report.
Only deaths.
Ethan stood between two worlds.
If Yusuf was his son, he was about to kill his own family.
If not, he was destroying his career over coincidence.
There was no one to ask.
Layla had vanished from every record.
7. The Decision
Operation night.
Ethan was assigned to confirm the target with a laser designator.
One press of a button.
Seven minutes until dawn.
Through the scope, Rahim stood beside a veiled woman. A child sat close to him.
Yusuf.
Ethan’s hands trembled.
— Confirm target.
He aimed.
Then shifted.
The laser deviated by a few degrees.
The missile struck the mountainside behind the camp, triggering secondary explosions. The compound fell into chaos. The target escaped.
The operation collapsed.
8. Aftermath
Ethan was investigated.
The report read: technical malfunction.
Someone else took the blame.
A month later, Ethan disappeared from military records.
In a small village near the border, a boy was taken away in the night.
No one knew the soldier who helped.
Only a crescent-shaped birthmark on a man’s wrist as he turned and walked into the dark.
