When His Protégée Defused Bombs With Eyes Closed, I Doomed Them All

My husbands protge boasted that she could defuse a bomb by instinct, with her eyes closed.

Her instincts were wrong. She triggered the bombs secondary detonation sequence.

I had to intervene, using the highly dangerous liquid nitrogen cryogenic suspension method to save the entire building.

Eva was removed from active duty and suspended pending investigation.

My husband, Marcus, tried to defend her, but I stopped him. If you speak up for her now, you wont just fail to save her; youll be suspended right along with her.

Unable to handle the pressure, Eva staged an accident and blew herself up. In her suicide note, she accused Marcus of choosing to save his own skin when she needed him most.

Marcus said nothing. He just kept that letter, treasured, in his study.

Years later, he was a nationally renowned bomb disposal expert. During a terrorist attack, I was strapped with a time bomb. He arrived on the scene to defuse it, but instead, he replicated his protges fatal mistake right in front of me.

He watched the countdown timer and smiled faintly. See? She was just nervous that day. If I had just encouraged her back then, she would be a hero now.

The bomb detonated. I was obliterated.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that moment, just as he was about to defend his protge.

He didnt know that inside that building was the core server holding the nations most sensitive intelligence.

1

The instant I realized I had been reborn, I turned on my heel. Instead of rushing to the scene, I went straight back to my dorm and switched off my encrypted communicator.

In my past life, after Evas screw-up, she had spammed me with frantic messages, begging me to save her. I had just come off a special operationseventy-two hours without sleepand had to go clean up her mess. I risked my life, enduring the searing cold of liquid nitrogen, just to save that core server.

It was only because of my success that the military brass didn't court-martial Eva, merely suspending her for investigation. If she had just kept her head down, she could have been reinstated. But she was fragile. A few snide remarks from colleagues were all it took. She staged an accident and killed herself.

And in the end, my husband, in his twisted attempt to vindicate her, got me blown to pieces.

I pulled the covers over my head and slept until morning.

The next day, I switched my communicator back on. The screen exploded with hundreds of missed calls and blood-red emergency alerts.

I took my time washing up, changing into my uniform, and made my way to the site at a leisurely pace.

Outside the police cordon, the air was thick with a tension so heavy it felt like it could liquefy. Desperation was etched on every face.

Eva was on the ground, hair disheveled, shaking uncontrollably. The colleagues surrounding her looked like they wanted to tear her apart.

Its all your fault, Eva! You and your stupid instinctive defusal!

Now look what youve done! The secondary detonation is active! Were all going to die!

Just wait! General Harding will have us all court-martialed for this!

Evas eyes darted wildly through the crowd. When she saw me, a flicker of hope ignited, as if she were grasping at a lifeline. But it was instantly replaced by a deep, seething resentment.

She pointed a trembling finger straight at me and shrieked with all her might, It was her! It was Sienna! I called her all night! She could have saved us! She deliberately turned off her communicator! She wants us all to die!

In an instant, every gaze in the crowd turned on me, a thousand sharp knives.

Seizing the moment, Eva stumbled to her feet and shoved her communicator in my face. The screen was a damning list of missed calls. Her eyes were bloodshot, her voice a raw, broken cry.

Sienna! You know whats in that building better than anyone! This is a matter of national security! How could you go dark at a time like this? What were you thinking?

The crowd fell silent, waiting for my explanation.

I looked at her disgusting, contorted face, and the hatred of a past life surged through me.

Then, I raised my hand.

CRACK!

The sharp, clean sound of my palm connecting with her cheek echoed in the tense silence.

Eva stared at me, stunned, her hand flying to her stinging face.

I shook out my tingling hand, my voice like ice. Are you insane?

2

I held up the mission dispatch tablet, turning the screen for everyone to see. The duty roster and signatures were clear as day.

Last nights primary operator was you, Eva. I, Sienna, was on mandatory leave after a seventy-two-hour special operation. My name is not on this roster.

The moment the words left my mouth, the dam of pent-up fury broke.

Shes right! Sienna just got back from Operation Red Scorpion yesterday! She disarmed three linked IEDs! She could barely stand when she got back!

Exactly! Eva, you always use Captain Thorne as a shield to get out of the dangerous missions and push them onto Sienna! Now youve caused a catastrophe and you want to drag her down with you?

You screw up and immediately look for someone to blame? Youre just as vile as ever!

The accusations rained down on Eva like stones. The color drained from her face, leaving it a ghostly white. She crumpled to the ground, her eyes vacant.

Just then, a military SUV screeched to a halt. General Harding and my husband, Marcus Thorne, stormed out, their faces thunderous.

I looked at Marcus. We had once been the golden couple of the service, a perfect match in everyones eyes. But now, his gaze swept right past me, not even pausing for a second, as he rushed to Evas side.

He took off his own jacket and wrapped it carefully around her, pulling her into a protective embrace. Eva, dont be afraid. Im here.

His voice held a tenderness I had never heard before. I wont let anything happen to you.

In that moment, my heart turned to ice. In my past life, he had shielded her just like this, telling me, Sienna, Eva was just nervous. She has a real gift. You should encourage her more.

Now, in front of everyone, he was putting his favoritism on full display. The contempt and anger in the eyes of our colleagues deepened.

General Hardings gaze cut between Marcus and me like a knife before he barked my name, ordering me into the command vehicle.

The second the door closed, the generals rock-solid composure shattered. For the first time, I saw panic in the veteran commanders eyes.

Sienna, I dont give a damn about regulations! he roared, slamming his fist on the tactical map, making the equipment hum. You have to save that server! If we lose it, every single one of us in this department, starting with me, is facing a firing squad!

I met his bloodshot eyes, my voice calm. General, I can try.

My quiet words silenced the vehicle. But I have a condition.

I pulled a document from my pocket and handed it to him. It was the approval form for Practical Application of Evas Special Talents, personally signed by Marcus, overriding all objections. The words special talents were a bitter irony now.

He approved the risk, I said. Im not cleaning up this mess alone. I want him to pay the price for this so-called innovation.

General Hardings eyes narrowed. He snatched the document from my hand. After reading it, he slammed it back down on the table with a deafening bang.

That bastard! he bellowed, his voice nearly ripping the roof off. Dont you worry! That expert consultant position he applied for? Its denied! As of today, all his promotion channels are frozen!

A cold, sharp smile touched my lips. I picked up a pen and signed my name on the military order, accepting full responsibility and waiving all support.

Marcus, your fast track to the top? In this life, Im tearing it down with my own two hands.

3

I suited up and raced into the building. No blueprints, no mission plan. But I had the memories of my past life.

I bypassed the faulty wiring Eva had set, ignored the flashing red lights of the deadly traps shed activated, and went straight for the core server.

The liquid nitrogen hissed, white fog filling the room. The piercing alarm cut out. The secondary detonation sequence was successfully frozen.

I pulled off my helmet, my vision blurred by a mix of cold sweat and vapor. I sagged against the wall, completely spent, on the verge of collapse.

When I walked out of the building, I was met with a chorus of relieved cheers. My colleagues rushed forward, supporting me, their words a jumble of gratitude and fear.

Sienna, youre a god!

I knew it! If anyone could fix this, it was you!

Invitations for a celebratory dinner started pouring in. I declined them all. I just wanted to go home.

The moment I pulled my car door open, a sharp pain shot through the back of my neck. A large hand clamped over my mouth, dragging me backward. My struggles were useless. I was hauled into a dark, dusty utility closet.

BANG. The door was locked.

I was tied to a cold metal chair, unable to move. An old, flickering lightbulb hung from the ceiling. In the shifting light, a familiar silhouette emerged.

Marcus. My husband.