Chapter 4 - The Captain's Return
Marcus dropped heavily onto his right knee on the cold marble floor.
He ignored the dirt on his pants, ignored the cameras, and ignored the gasps of his social peers. He looked up at her face, his dark eyes brimming with sudden, uncontrollable tears that spilled over his lashes.
His trembling hands reached out, gently touching the hem of his jacket wrapped around her shoulders, as if terrified that she was nothing more than a ghost crafted from grief and fever.
"Captain..." Marcus choked out, his voice breaking into a ragged, desperate sob. "They told me you were dead! They told me the convoy in Kandahar was erased! They said there was nothing left of you to bring home!"
The woman stood still, looking down at the man kneeling at her feet. A faint, sad smile touched the uninjured side of her lips.
"They lied to you, Lieutenant Vance," she said softly. Her voice was cool, calm, and carried the quiet, metallic resonance of an iron blade drawn from a sheath. "They lied to you about the convoy. They lied to you about the explosion. And they lied to you about who placed the tracking beacon under my seat."
Behind them, Chloe marched down the aisle, her veil trailing wildly, her face contorted in a mixture of rage and humiliation.
"Marcus!" Chloe screamed, grabbing his shoulder and trying to pull him up from his knees. "Are you insane?! Get up off the floor! Who is this disgusting woman?!"
May you like
Marcus stood up slowly, stepping between the scarred woman and his bride. When he looked at Chloe, his eyes were cold, dead, and terrifyingly distant.
"She isn't a freak, Chloe," Marcus said, his voice vibrating with absolute lethal clarity. "She is Captain Valeria Mercer. She was my commanding officer in Delta Force. She saved my life three times—and she is the reason I am standing here breathing today."
