Prologue-Sawyer
Walking away from war isn’t easy.
But if I want to live as something more than a machine, it’s necessary.
The things I’ve seen—the men I’ve killed—leave a mark no amount of scrubbing can take off.
You tell yourself you did what you had to.That you were following orders.That it was them or your brothers.
But at night, when it’s quiet, the ghosts line up anyway.
So, I came home.
Back to civilian life.
Back to silence.
After months of searching, I found the perfect place to build something that’s mine.
A stretch of land up in northern New Jersey of all damn places—a town called Dry Creek, tucked deep in Barren County.Mountains to the west, farmland to the east.
A dairy and produce farm next door, a sleepy town about thirty-five minutes down the highway.
Private.Quiet.
Just the way I wanted it.
The place had seen better days.Fire tore through it before I got here, but that just meant I bought it for a steal.
I rebuilt every inch—the barn, the house, the bull pens, bunkhouse, even the fences—poured every last dollar I had into making it right.
Now, it’s ready.
Jersey Iron Ranch.
My second chance.My empire.
Seed bulls, champion bloodlines, the kind of stock people pay real money for.
Bull jizz is a hell of a business, turns out.
Never thought I’d trade bullets for breeding contracts, but life’s got a sense of humor.
I’ve got two of my old special ops boys joining me soon—Benji and Micah.Solid men.
The kind you can count on when the world’s on fire.
Can’t wait to have them here, especially since trouble’s already sniffing around.
I mean that literally.I can’t wait.
So, I had to reach out to an old acquaintance with connections, Sammy Ramirez.He’s an ex special ops guy, just like me.
His connection?Nikolai Petrov.Bratva.
Not my ideal choice, but he’s honest enough.
Being a soldier taught me that there’s little difference between governments and gangsters.
