It didn’t change anything. The war was over. Bruce had played his part. Now he needed to move on, to forget, to start his life with Maggie, the life they should have had, had the war never started. He owed her that, owed himself a chance at a normal, simple life.
But it wasn’t over. Best was still fighting and the enemies were already inside the walls. All those men who had willingly gone to war, had bled and died for a cause they believed in, and now it felt pointless. What had they achieved other than a victory for tyrants who would use it to gain power over the people? And Bruce had been a willing puppet, a weapon for those pulling the strings.
Bruce’s chest tightened, forcing him to stop and take a breath.
He wouldn’t see Best again, he realized. He’d put an end to it and Best would
