Chapter 19 - The Family Business
I stared at the photograph, the ink on the back burning into my retinas like acid. For twenty years, I had believed my mother died in a classified transport crash overseas—a tragedy the Pentagon had quietly buried under layers of red tape and military secrecy. But looking at the date stamp on the back of the photo—March 2024—my heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird.
She wasn't dead.
She had been alive this entire time, operating somewhere deep within the shadows of military intelligence and shadow procurement networks—the very same networks Thorne had been exploiting for years.
"Ma'am?" Vance’s voice pulled me back from the edge of the abyss. He was watching me closely, his weathered face filled with sudden concern. "Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Not a ghost, Sergeant Major," I whispered, sliding the photograph back into the envelope. "Family."
Before Vance could ask another question, the desk phone shrilled loudly, cutting through the silence of the office. I picked up the receiver instantly.
"Colonel Ellison," I barked.
"Mara," a voice rasped through the speaker—smooth, chillingly familiar, and carrying an eerie echo of my own voice. "It’s been a long time. I hear you've been busy tearing down my old friends."
My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned pure white. "Where are you?"
May you like
"Does it matter?" my mother’s voice purred softly over the static. "You thought you were sent to the 3rd Armored to fix a broken regiment. But you were always just a chess piece moving toward the board I prepared for you. If you want to know the truth about what happened in Fallujah—and why your career was chosen for this exact post—meet me at the old lighthouse near the coastal cliffs tonight at midnight. Come alone."
The line went dead with a sharp click.
