Reclaiming His Wife

The first guard never sees me coming. The same tool that opened my door goes into his neck, and he’s gone. The second guard goes the same way.

No mercy. No words.

I go through the whole fucking base, like an angel of death. These aren’t “freedom fighters,” or heroes resisting a foreign power. These men blow up schools. These men murder women and children and use civilians as human shields.

None of them will live.

I lose myself for an hour, becoming the beast version of myself—snarling, roaring, killing, until the whole place is fucking empty, my shoulders ache, and blood drops down my hands. I look up at the sky, and finally, for the first time in I’m only roughly guessing to be five years, I take a free breath of air.

And I start to laugh.

I’m free. Free, and nothing is going to stop me from taking my wife now. If I had to swim to the States, I’m coming back for her.

10

Russell

Two weeks ago:

The base general, General Rice, looks at me like I’m dead.

…I guess that’s because I am.

“You’re Major Kane.” He blinks, crossing his arms over his barrel chest and arching a brow at the paperwork on the desk between us.

“You’re—”

“Dead?”

He smiles grimly.

“Five years dead. Mind if I ask where you’ve been, son?”

I nod. I’ve already been over this with the officers who checked me in when I arrived at the joint U.S./U.K. airbase, but I’m happy to go over it again.

“A prison camp. This little hole in the desert at the foothills of the Hindu Kush mountains.”

He swears under his breath. “Fucking hell, soldier. For the last five years? All there?”

I nod, and he whistles, his eyes hardening.

“You got coordinates? I’ll send a fucking drone strike in myself.”

I smile back. “I can give you coordinates, but the drone won’t be needed.”

General Rice raises a brow, his mouth grim.

“Hoo-rah, Marine.”

He shakes his head, sitting back and rubbing his jaw.

“Well, needless to say, you’re going home.”

I grin. “I won’t fight you there.”

“I’m pushing the paperwork through today, personally. We’re going to get you home and get you your life back as quick as we possibly can.” He chuckles. “Coming back from the dead ain’t easy, son.”

“I don’t imagine it is.”

He eyes the paperwork and shakes his head again.

“Jesus. Well, my office is yours if you want to call…” he glances at my sheet and winces. “You wife. God almighty, son. I can’t even imagine how happy she’ll be to hear your voice.”

He stands, gesturing to his chair.

“Take as long as you need and make whatever calls you like.”

I stand, and when he steps around the desk, I shake his hand firmly.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Welcome back to life, Marine.”

When he closes the door behind him, I slowly turn for the phone. I know the obvious would be to call Jules, but I can’t. Not yet. I can’t just barge into her life after whatever she’s gone through thinking I’m dead for five fucking years. I won’t do that to her with a goddamn phone call.

I’ll do it face-to-face, where she can reach out and touch me, and know how real I am.

I pick up the General’s phone, and instead, I dial a different number.

…Carlos about has a fucking heart attack when he hears my voice.

I tell him everything—Darren, what happened after the attack, were I’ve been, all of it. He’s silent for a second, but finally, I get him to spill. And that’s when I hear about Jules.

That’s when I hear that my wife is scheduled to marry the man who left me to die.

I almost break when he tells me, but I hold it together.

“How much time do I have?”

“Three days.”

It’s more than I need.

“You still buddies with those guys from basic who work for that mercenary outfit out here now?”

“The Ridgewood dudes? Yeah,” Carlos says. “They’re actually at an air base not that far from you.”

My mouth tightens.

“You got any favors you could call in?”

He pauses.

“What kind of favors?”

“I need to borrow a truck.”

He snorts. “Shouldn’t be a problem, man.”

“I also need to borrow a trans-Atlantic cargo plane.”

Carlos stops laughing and whistles lowly.

“Hold up, man. What we found….”

“It’s safe, Carlos.”

He swears.

“You’re fucking kidding me. I thought for sure there was no way it hadn’t been found by now!”

I shake my head, grinning. “Nah, it’s safe, brother. But I’m gonna need more than my backpack to get it home.”

He snorts. “Yeah no shit.” He clears his throat. “The Ridgewood guys are cool. They won’t ask questions. But,” he grumbles. “Dude, I don’t know about the plane.”

“Tell them I’ll pay for it. Fuck, I’ll buy the fucking thing if I have to.”

Carlos laughs. “I’ll talk to them and make it happen.”

He swears again.

“Fuck it’s good to hear your voice, man.”

I grin. “Same, brother.”

A low growl rumbles from his end. “Fuck, man. Darren,” he hisses. “So, when do we kill the motherfucker?”