Born to Fight

Chapter 7

Celeste

I didn’t have to make the arrangements for Mom’s funeral.

Two of her closest friends from the base had taken care of everything.

I was grateful.

More grateful than I could put into words.

They’d known Mom for years. They knew the people she had worked with, the people she had served alongside, and the life she had built within the military.

They would know how to say goodbye to her.

I wouldn’t have.

I barely knew how to get through the day without falling apart.

If I’d been left to organize her funeral myself, I wouldn’t have known where to begin. There were too many decisions. Too many things to think about.

What flowers?

What music?

Who should speak?

What would Mom have wanted?

Even thinking about it made my chest ache.

Jamie would have helped me.

I knew he would have.

But I’d already asked too much of him.

He’d given me a place to live, protected me, fed me, listened to me, and somehow managed to make me feel safe when the entire world had become terrifying.

I couldn’t ask him to carry this too.

I didn’t want to owe him anything else.

Everyone seemed to be operating under the same silent agreement.

Protect Celeste.

Don’t tell Celeste too much.

Don’t make things harder for her.

I understood why they were doing it.

And I appreciated it.

But there was something humiliating about being treated like I might shatter if someone looked at me the wrong way.

I wasn’t fragile.

At least, I hadn’t been before.

Then the day of Mom’s funeral arrived.

The sky was grey.

The rain was steady.

Cold drops fell relentlessly from the clouds as we stood beside her grave.

The forecast predicted severe storms later that afternoon.

Somehow, that seemed fitting.

The weather matched how I felt.

Miserable.

Empty.

Broken.

People spoke about Mom.

They talked about her military career.

Her accomplishments.

Her dedication.

Her strength.

They spoke about the things she’d achieved and the people she’d helped.

They talked about how much she had meant to them.

And then they called her death a senseless tragedy.

I stood beside Jamie through all of it.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t speak.

I barely moved.

I stood there with my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my black coat, pretending I was fine.

My hands were shaking.

I couldn’t let anyone see.

Because if they saw the shaking, they’d know.

They’d know that beneath the calm expression, I was barely holding myself together.

My eyes remained fixed on the casket.

Mom was in there.

My brain knew it.

My heart refused to accept it.

The further the service went, the harder it became to breathe.

And then another thought crept into my mind.

One I couldn’t silence.

What had helping me cost Jamie?

I’d been staying at his house for days now.

What if the men who killed Mom found me there?

What if they were watching?

What if they’d already discovered where I’d gone?

My eyes moved across the cemetery.

Would Jamie come back here?

Would he stand beside another grave?

Another casket?

Only next time…

Would it be mine?

Or worse…

Would it be his?

Or Josh’s?

The thought made my stomach twist.

They’d chosen to help me.

They didn’t have to.

They had no reason to put their lives at risk for a girl they’d barely known a few weeks ago.

Yet they had.

And I was terrified that one day they would pay the price for it.

I swallowed hard.

I was supposed to be strong.

My mother had raised me to be a soldier.

My grandfather had raised me to be a soldier.

Even my school had prepared me for a life of discipline, strength and service.

But standing there beside my mother’s grave, I didn’t feel like a soldier.

I felt like a frightened little girl who had lost the only person in the world she could count on.

When the service ended, I slowly walked toward the casket.

A single silver rose rested in my hand.

Mom’s favorite.

She’d always loved silver roses.

They were expensive, and she’d rarely allowed herself anything extravagant, but those roses had been her one indulgence.

I placed it gently on top of her casket.

“Goodbye, Mom.”

The words barely made it past my lips.

I stepped back.

One by one, the other mourners approached.

Red roses.

White roses.

Flowers of every kind were placed on top of the casket.

I watched silently.

The women cried.

The men looked angry.

I understood.

These weren’t strangers gathered around my mother’s grave.

They were soldiers.

Military personnel.

People who had served alongside her.

She had been one of their own.

They wanted whoever had done this caught.

They wanted answers.

They wanted justice.

So did I.

When the last person stepped away from the grave, I remained where I was.

Alone.

The rain had grown heavier.

Cold water soaked through my coat and seeped into my clothes, but I barely noticed.

A group of Mom’s colleagues stood nearby, talking quietly among themselves.

They hugged.

They cried.

They shared memories.

Every now and then, someone glanced in my direction.

I hated those looks.

Pity.

That’s what they were.

They knew I was an orphan now.

They knew the people responsible for killing my mother were still out there.

And I knew exactly what they were thinking.

Is she next?

The thought sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

I looked around the cemetery.

I told myself I was being paranoid.

Maybe I was.

But I couldn’t stop myself from searching the crowd.

Looking for anyone who didn’t belong.

Anyone watching me.

Anyone who looked suspicious.

I knew it would take a seriously disturbed person to attend the funeral of someone they’d murdered.

But then again…

Normal people didn’t murder someone in cold blood.

So why would I assume a murderer would think normally?

My gaze moved across the cemetery.

Nothing.

Trees.

Graves.

Cars.

Mourners.

Then I saw him.

A man standing near the cluster of trees separating the cemetery from the parking lot.

I frowned.

I didn’t recognize him.

At first, I assumed he was someone Mom had worked with.

But something about him felt wrong.

He wasn’t standing with the others.

He wasn’t speaking to anyone.

He wasn’t paying his respects.

He was simply standing there.

Watching.

Watching me.

My pulse quickened.

Maybe I was imagining it.

Maybe he was just another person who had known Mom.

But if that was the case, why wasn’t he with everyone else?

Why was he standing alone?

I stared at him.

He stared back.

For one brief second, our eyes locked.

Then he stepped backward.

Behind the nearest tree.

And disappeared.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I should have told Jamie.

I knew that.

I should have walked straight back to him and pointed the man out.

Instead, something inside me demanded answers.

Who was he?

How had he known Mom?

Why had he been watching me?

And why had he hidden the moment I noticed him?

I glanced back toward Jamie.

He was speaking with someone, his attention elsewhere.

I hesitated.

Then I started walking.

Toward the trees.

Toward the place where the man had disappeared.

Every step made my instincts scream that I was making a mistake.

But I kept going.

When I reached the tree, I stopped.

I didn’t get too close.

I slowly moved around it, searching the area.

Nothing.

No man.

No footsteps.

No movement.

Just rain.

Wind.

Trees.

I looked toward the parking lot.

Nothing.

He was gone.

Completely gone.

It was as though he’d never been there at all.

But I knew what I’d seen.

And for the first time since Mom’s murder, a terrifying possibility took hold.

Maybe I wasn’t as invisible as I’d hoped.

⸻

Jamie

I kept looking at Celeste throughout the service.

She hadn’t cried.

Not once.

She stood beside me with her eyes fixed on the casket, her expression completely blank.

Too blank.

I’d seen people shut down before.

I’d seen soldiers do it after things they couldn’t process.

It wasn’t that they didn’t feel anything.

They felt too much.

So they felt nothing instead.

Celeste looked like she was somewhere else entirely.

I stayed close.

Not because I thought she was weak.

Quite the opposite.

I thought she was trying so damn hard to be strong that she was going to break herself in the process.

When she finally walked toward the casket, she pulled a single silver rose from her coat pocket.

I’d never seen one before.

I’d actually been shocked when I’d found out how expensive they were.

But the moment Celeste placed it on her mother’s casket, I understood.

It wasn’t about the money.

It was about Mom.

When Celeste stepped away, Josh and I placed our roses beside the others.

We spoke briefly with some of the people from the base, but neither of us stopped watching her for long.

She stood apart from everyone.

Alone.

I glanced toward her again.

She was gone.

My stomach tightened.

I scanned the cemetery.

There.

Near the trees.

Celeste was moving slowly toward the edge of the property.

I immediately excused myself and headed after her.

Something wasn’t right.

She wasn’t walking like someone who simply needed some air.

She was looking around.

Searching.

When I reached her, she turned.

Her eyes met mine.

And my heart sank.

There were tears in them.

She’d been fighting them the entire time.

Now she was losing.

“Celeste?”

She looked away.

I stepped closer.

“What are you doing over here?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

Her eyes moved toward the trees.

Then back toward me.

For a second, I had the strangest feeling that she was about to tell me something.

Something important.

Instead, she simply shook her head.

“Nothing.”

I didn’t believe her.

But I could see she was exhausted.

Whatever had happened tonight, she was reaching her limit.

I gently took her by the elbow.

“Come on.”

She didn’t argue.

I led her toward Josh’s car.

Once we reached it, I pulled my phone from my pocket.

I called Josh.

“We need to go.”

He didn’t ask questions.

He simply joined us moments later.

As we pulled away from the cemetery, I glanced back through the window.

Celeste was staring out at the rain.

She looked pale.

Lost.

But there was something else in her expression.

Fear.

Not the grief I’d expected.

Not the fear she’d been carrying since her mother’s murder.

This was different.

Focused.

As if she’d seen something.

Or someone.

I looked back toward the cemetery.

The trees stood dark against the grey sky.

Empty.

At least, they appeared empty.

But something about the way Celeste had been looking at them wouldn’t leave me alone.

I had the unsettling feeling that we hadn’t just left a funeral.

We’d left someone behind.

Someone who didn’t want to be seen.