And I never knew.
I never fucking knew.
I press my palms flat against the glass and watch my reflection—this woman with wild eyes and shaking hands, standing in a prison disguised as a paradise.
He thinks he's won.
He thinks he's broken me down, boxed me in, left me nowhere to turn but his open arms.
But he's forgotten something.
I'm not some soft civilian who'll crumble at the first sign of trouble.
I'm not one of his grateful fucking townspeople, too blind to see the monster behind the smile.
I'm a goddamn soldier.
And soldiers don't surrender.
We adapt. We overcome. We find the weakness in our enemy's armor and we drive our knife straight through it.
He wants a war?
Fine.
I'll give him a war he'll never forget.
I turn from the window, and I start to plan.
CHAPTER FOUR
Elias
The fireworks start at nine.
I've paid for every single one of them.
Paid for the caterers and the band.
Paid for the decorations strung between the old oaks, the porta-potties, the parking attendants, the off-duty deputies keeping order at the gates.
The whole town is on my lawn, eating my food and drinking my wine, celebrating independence on land my family has owned for over two hundred years.
The irony isn't lost on me.
I stand on the upper terrace, whiskey in hand, and watch them mill about like ants at a picnic.
The mayor is holding court near the barbecue pit, probably angling for a campaign donation.
The fire chief is on his third plate of ribs.
Everyone is happy. Everyone is grateful.
They have no idea what I take.
What I'm about to claim.
My eyes find her without trying.
