Chapter 2 - The General Who Wanted Me Dead
Lieutenant General Montgomery stepped out of the Blackhawk before the rotors fully slowed. He wore a black dress uniform heavy with blurred ribbons and the kind of arrogance that only survives when everyone around it has been trained to call fear respect. Four military police moved behind him, stiff and uncertain, their weapons lowered but ready because someone had told them I was dangerous.
Montgomery did not look at the target. He did not ask who made the shot. He walked straight toward me as if the last nineteen years had collapsed into one strip of concrete between us.
“Arrest her immediately,” he barked. “This woman is an unstable fraud, a psychological hazard, and an immediate threat to national security.”
Colonel Miller looked from Montgomery to me, suddenly realizing the insult he had thrown at a logistics clerk had landed somewhere much deeper than he understood. “General, she just—”
Montgomery shoved him aside with an armored forearm. Miller stumbled back onto the gravel, more shocked than hurt. Brooks’s face tightened. The MPs froze for half a second, trained to follow rank and smart enough to recognize something wrong inside the order.
I did not move.
Montgomery stopped inches from me. His eyes were older than I remembered, but the malice had not aged. It had only learned better uniforms.
“You should have stayed dead in the Korengal Valley, Sarah,” he hissed.
That was the first mistake.
Not grabbing me. Not bringing MPs. Not landing in front of witnesses.
Saying Korengal out loud.
He lunged forward and caught my collar, forgetting—or maybe refusing to believe—that handcuffs in front of my wrists did not make me harmless. My boot drove into his chest in one fast, controlled movement. He stumbled backward, his pistol slipping from his hand and spinning away across the concrete before anyone could pretend I had reached for it.
Dust moved between us.
The MPs lifted their hands but kept their weapons lowered.
May you like
I stood cuffed, breathing steady, and looked at Montgomery.
“Touch me again, and I break more than your wrist.”
