Chapter 4 - The Shadows of the PastI raised my firearm, settling the sight alignment dead-center on the figure leaning against a rusted steel pillar.
The man was clutching his side, blood soaking through a dark tactical jacket. As he stepped slightly into a sliver of moonlight filtering through the broken roof, my stomach twisted into a violent knot.
"Greg?" I whispered, recognizing my mother’s "loyal assistant."
Greg let out a wet, raspy laugh, wiping blood from his chin. "You always thought you were the smartest guy in the room, didn't you, Marcus? Tactical genius. Decorated officer."
"You tried to kill my wife and infant child," I said, my thumb clicking the hammer back. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't end you right here."
"Because if you shoot me, you'll never find out who paid me two million dollars to sabotage your squad's transport vehicle in Syria," Greg spat, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight.
A cold, deadly calm settled over me. Six months ago, my unit was ambushed in an intelligence black zone. Three of my men didn't make it home. We had assumed it was a local insurgent leak, but the betrayal had come from home.
"My mother couldn't afford two million dollars," I said coldly. "Who is funding you?"
"Your mother isn't the mastermind, Marcus. She’s just a greedy, pathetic pawn who wanted her lavish lifestyle back," Greg smirked, leaning heavily against the pillar. "She sold your location to the highest bidder—a private defense contractor trying to suppress the investigation your grandfather started before he died."
"My grandfather died of a heart attack."
"Your grandfather was poisoned," Greg countered instantly. "Because he found out that Vance Global Logistics was illegally trafficking weaponized tech through military channels. And the person who ordered his hit... is standing right behind you."
Before I could turn, a heavy iron pipe struck the side of my head with blinding force.
My vision exploded into bright white sparks. My pistol clattered against the concrete floor as I slammed onto my knees.
Through a blur of blood dripping into my eyes, I looked up. Standing above me with a heavy steel crowbar wasn't a stranger. It wasn't a mercenary.
It was my uncle, Richard Vance—the high-ranking senator who had delivered the eulogy at my grandfather’s funeral.
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"You really should have stayed overseas, nephew," Richard said, stepping over my fallen gun with a cold smile.
Chapter 4 Cliffhanger Hook: Richard motioned to two heavily armed men stepping out of the shadows. “Tie him up,” Richard ordered smoothly. “And call the hospital. Tell them Captain Vance’s wife and child just suffered a fatal relapse in the ICU.”
