“Mom and Dad are dead! You’re not!” He starts to pace the small apartment. “They got to Chris. Slit his throat with his goddamned wife in the room.”
Tears lend a shimmer to the room. It’s almost…pretty, a stark contrast to the ugly images flashing through my head. The Army CID agents didn’t want to show me the crime scene photos, but I insisted. Chris was like a second brother to me.Without him, I never would have made it through Ranger School.
“You’re not going to change my mind. We’ve been at this for days. If that’s all you came here to do, you can leave.” I’m not above pleading with my brother, but when has that ever worked before? “I need you there tomorrow, Logan. I need to know you’re on my side.”
Anguish churns in his blue-gray eyes. He stalks to the door but pauses with his hand on the knob. “I love you, Natasha. That will never change. But I can’t be on your side if you’re dead.”
A door slams somewhere in the building, echoing the one in my memories as Logan left in a huff. He came back an hour later with two cups of coffee and a scone. A paltry peace offering. Though we got into it again two more times before I finally kicked him out two hours ago. Will he show tomorrow? Or will I truly be alone?
My key rasps in the lock, but turns too easily. Unease prickles along my spine. Athudfrom inside the apartment is almost immediately followed by a strained groan.
I whirl around and shout for Ciprian—the MP who shadowed me on my run. “Get the fuck up here!”
All I have on me is a switchblade. What I wouldn’t give for my service weapon.
Ciprian bounds up the stairs, his pale cheeks dark red from the exertion. The manhatesrunning. He pulls his gun and hisses, “Get back!”
I’m already committed, so I wrench the knob and kick the door open. The harsh scent of blood clogs my throat.
The MP shoulders me aside. Parker aims over Ciprian’s shoulder, but the MP shouts, “Drop it!”
A bullet hits the wall only inches from my head. Ciprian returns fire.
Glass shatters. “Oh, God,” the MP says. “Get in here!”
I round the couch and freeze. My brother lies on the floor with his hands pressed to his stomach. Blood soaks his dress uniform. Stains the drab beige carpet. Spatters the coffee table.
“Logan! No!” I kneel next to him. The red pool under my knees is still warm. “Why did you come back?”
His mouth moves, but no sound comes out. I can see it in his eyes. He’s dying. He knows it.
“Hang on for me. Please.” I pull off my shirt and press it to his stomach. He shudders. Pain tightens lines around his eyes. The MP barks at the 911 operator, telling them to hurry.
Warm air washes over me from the broken window. Logan fumbles for my hand. He’s fading away. I’ve never felt so helpless. My tears hit his cheeks, mixing with his.
“I love you, Lo.” I’m sobbing now.
Logan squeezes his eyes shut. His lips press together. Tendons in his neck flex, and he meets my gaze. “Run,” he whispers. “Live.”
One last breath, and my brother is gone.
“Montgomery Bastian,Allan Collins, Dylan Sutton, Ethan Doherty, and Rob Bowen, you have been found guilty of war crimes…”
Before the judge even finishes reading the verdict, I’m through the double doors of the courtroom.
Fleeing into the women’s bathroom, I head for the furthest stall. The one with theOut of Ordersign taped to the door. Behind the toilet, a paper bag waits for me.
Ciprian, the MP who shot and wounded Parker less than thirty-six hours ago, got me everything on my list.
Red wig. Baggy clothes. Dark sunglasses. A foldable cane. In two minutes, I emerge from the stall, lean heavily on the cane’s handle, and slip out into the chaos.
Bastian will never stop hunting me. When he realized I’d been the one to turn him in, he’d told me that I’d die in the most painful way possible.
I didn’t care.
Until he murdered Chris. And Logan. Now, I can only do one thing.
Honor my brother’s last wish.
