Prologue
863 Words
"Ugh, my feet are killing me."
I kicked off my heels the second the suite door closed, sending them flying across the hardwood floor.
Sarah looked up from where she was dropping her laptop bag onto the dining table and burst out laughing.
"I told you today was going to be a long day," she said, shaking her head. "I told you to bring tennis shoes."
I shot her a look.
"Keep talking, Mercer. I know at least twelve different ways to make your death look like an accident."
She laughed even harder.
"You'd never survive the paperwork."
Before I could come up with a comeback, Marcus walked through the door, his attention fixed on his phone.
"You know," he said without looking up, "for someone who's considered one of the smartest tactical minds in the world, you have an amazing talent for ignoring good advice."
I narrowed my eyes.
He finally looked up and smirked.
"You always do the exact opposite of what Sarah and I tell you. So no... I'm not surprised your feet hurt."
I answered by raising my hand and flipping them both off.
Sarah nearly doubled over laughing.
Marcus simply grinned.
"There she is."
I collapsed backward onto the couch with a dramatic groan.
"I hate both of you."
"No, you don't," Sarah replied.
"No," Marcus agreed. "You're just hungry."
He wasn't wrong.
Training foreign military units sounded glamorous until you spent ten hours crossing a military installation the size of a small city.
Paris wasn't the problem.
The French Special Operations Training Center was.
The facility wasn't one building—it was an entire training complex made up of multiple buildings connected by roads, obstacle courses, firing ranges, mock villages, and combat houses.
By the end of the day, we'd walked nearly nine miles.
In heels.
I wasn't making that mistake again.
I rubbed my aching feet and sighed.
"I'm starving. Can one of you order food before I start eating the furniture?"
Sarah was already pulling out her phone.
"I already know what you want."
"Burgers?"
"And fries."
She rolled her eyes.
"Extra fries."
Marcus chuckled.
"You have the eating habits of a teenage linebacker."
"I burn calories."
“Not for long if you keep eating that way!”
I pointed at him.
"See? That's exactly why I threaten your life on a regular basis."
He laughed as he disappeared into the living room.
Whenever we traveled together, we booked one large suite instead of separate hotel rooms.
It wasn't because we couldn't afford individual rooms.
It was easier.
We worked better together.
Mission planning, intelligence reports, and training schedules never stopped just because the day ended.
After years of working side by side, sharing one suite simply made sense.
Sarah and Marcus weren't just my coworkers anymore.
They were my family.
I headed to my room, peeled off my clothes, and stood beneath the hot water until the soreness finally started leaving my muscles.
When I walked back into the living room wearing leggings and one of Marcus's old Marine Corps T-shirts, the smell of burgers filled the suite.
Marcus held up the takeout bag with a grin.
"Burgers and fries."
"You're my favorite."
Sarah snorted.
"You said that last week after I brought you tacos."
"I have different favorites for different cuisines."
Marcus laughed and handed me my food.
We gathered around the dining table, laptops open beside our plates.
Even dinner became another meeting.
I pulled tomorrow's schedule onto the television.
"Tomorrow morning starts with hand-to-hand combat."
Marcus nodded.
"Building A is already set up."
"Good."
I looked over at Sarah.
"I want surveillance training immediately afterward. Rotate observation teams every thirty minutes. I don't want anyone getting comfortable."
She typed a few notes.
"Already done."
"After lunch, we'll move into infiltration exercises."
Marcus leaned back in his chair.
"The Marines are going to love that."
"They always do."
"And the Army?"
I smiled.
"They'll complain the entire time."
Sarah laughed.
"And then ask for another round."
"Exactly."
We spent another hour reviewing lesson plans, assigning instructors, and answering questions from tomorrow's host commanders before finally calling it a night.
I barely remembered climbing into bed before sleep claimed me.
"Sutton."
A hand gently shook my shoulder.
"Sutton... wake up."
I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head.
"If the building isn't on fire, I'm sleeping."
A soft laugh escaped Sarah.
"It's not on fire."
"Then it can wait."
"It can't."
Something in her voice made me lower the pillow.
She stood beside my bed, already dressed, her expression unusually serious.
"What is it?"
"Your mom has been trying to reach you."
I frowned and reached for my phone on the nightstand.
The screen stayed black.
I hit the power button again.
Nothing.
"Damn."
"My phone died."
Sarah immediately handed me hers.
"Here."
I took it, quickly dialing my mother's number from memory.
She answered before the first ring had finished.
"Sutton?"
"Mom? I'm sorry. My phone died. What's wrong?"
There was a long silence. Long enough for my stomach to knot. Finally, she spoke.
"I need you to come home baby." Fear settled deep in my chest.
"I'm on my way."
- Writer
