Chapter: Operation Mist Island
The door swung open, and Captain Morgan stepped inside.
"Morgan. Glad you made it. I was starting to think you'd changed your mind about the mission," General Stanford said, a brief smile crossing his face.
"I don't turn down calls to serve my country," Morgan replied.
"That's not your reputation—to cower when it matters. You have the floor," the General said.
Morgan nodded and cleared his throat. Every officer in the room turned their attention to him.
"The mission is simple," Morgan began, his voice hard and commanding. "Neutralize the threat. Extract immediately. Operation Mist Island."
A display flickered behind him. "A biological anomaly has been detected on a classified island. Life forms there are mutating at an accelerated rate—faster than any known evolution pattern. If left unchecked, it won't stay on that island."
Indistinct murmurs filled the room after his statement. Morgan cleared his throat again, his voice now assertive and demanding.
"This mission was selected for the best of the best in special ops units across the country. Think of this as a daring test only the most capable can handle. We are well trained, backed to combat simple life forms, and with courage, we will prove we are second to none.
"Go home. Sleep tight. Prepare for victory. Meeting dismissed."
The officers left the room in orderly fashion. Morgan turned to speak with General Stanford, who had been quiet all along.
A young private approached. "Sir… are you sure this isn't a setup by one of our country's enemies?"
Morgan smiled. "Obviously not. The mist around the island is too thick. Only our global Intel department could have extracted the information we're acting on. This isn't an ambush."
"Private Dan, go home and rest. It's going to be a long flight."
Dan let out a small sigh of relief. "Hope the Intel is right on this one."
"Trust your military. Fight your fight and leave the rest," Morgan said. "Dismissed."
Dan saluted and left. Morgan shared a jovial conversation with the General before departing the meeting room.
Morgan entered his home, the familiar scent of jasmine and warm wood greeting him. "Sophia?" he called softly.
She came running, and before he could react, she was in his arms. Their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss, a stolen moment of peace from the chaos outside. For a heartbeat, the world melted away.
"You're home," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his.
"And I'm here now," Morgan replied, his hands tracing her back. "Just for tonight."
They sank onto the sofa, wrapping themselves around each other. Laughter and quiet teasing filled the room as they stole a few more moments, brushing fingers and lingering in the warmth of their embrace.
Then Morgan drew back slightly, the weight of the coming mission darkening his expression. "Sophia… I've been deployed. Tomorrow."
Her smile faltered, replaced by a shadow of worry. "Tomorrow? But… what about…" Her voice trailed, and the room went quiet.
Morgan held her gently, pressing his forehead to hers. "I'll return to you. I promise. We will continue our family… together."
Her gaze drifted to the photograph on the wall—their daughter, smiling innocently, forever frozen before the tragedy. Tears welled up, and she whispered through her sobs, "If I had taken her back from school… maybe she'd still be here…"
Morgan's chest tightened. He held her closer, wrapping her in his arms. "We can't change the past. But we have each other. We survive this, together."
They clung to each other, grief and longing mingling with the warmth of their embrace. Slowly, exhaustion claimed them, and they drifted to sleep on the sofa, holding each other as the night went by