"Blunder"

No big deal. She's been in this situation before.

Leona winces as she pulls the tourniquet tight around her leg. There's four or so men downstairs. She doesn't have the time to care for her wound properly, so she'll just have to grin and bear it.

Which isn't a problem. She's found the corners of her mouth always turning up when something like this happens.

"Bo!" someone shouts from downstairs. Definitely not a fireteam captain, judging by the hint of panic in his voice. Also by the captain lying in front of her with his head blown open, but that's neither here nor there.

They ain't frosty, Leona thinks, But you are.

She turns around, looking at the bed against her back. Without a second thought, she ducks and rolls beneath it. Her thoughts stutter once she sees her own blood trailing behind, giving away her hiding spot.

Boots pound their way towards the bedroom. There's a call to stack up at the entrance.

Shit. The closet's further back in the room. Leona scrambles to it, not bothering to stay quiet. They already know she's in the room; the best she can do is cast doubt on where exactly.

As she slips into the closet, the bedroom door is kicked in. Leona grips her pistol and counts the number of men entering.

---