Page 50 of Power's Fall

Montana pulled his hand free from Dahlia’s grip, lifting both up, palms out. “I have the blood of innocent people on my hands, and the worst part is…I don’t know how many lives I’ve taken. No faces, no names. I’m no better than a mass murderer.”

“Stop,” Dahlia demanded. At the same time Vadisk said, “Look at me, Montana.”

Montana’s gaze was lowered again, his eyes locked on the floor at his feet. Even though Dahlia was right there in front of him, he refused to face her.

“Look at me,” Vadisk repeated sternly. “Now.”

Montana forced his eyes to meet Vadisk’s, expecting to see…well, he didn’t know what. Maybe disgust, censure, disapproval?

Instead, Vadisk simply looked at him like a man who understood. “You were a Naval officer and you were taking orders. You weren’t the one making the decisions about who or what was targeted.”

Montana knew that was the truth, but admitting it or allowing that to ease his conscience felt like a cop-out. It would be simple to push the blame onto someone else, but that didn’t change the fact that he was the one who wrote the code responsible for so many deaths.

Dahlia tapped on his knee, drawing his attention to her. “Vadisk is right.”

Montana had anticipated condemnation, so their compassion felt like a gift he didn’t expect to receive. The problem was, he didn’t think he deserved it.

“I understand I had to follow orders, but I was the one who willfully believed the very obvious lies about what I was going to be doing when I graduated from the academy. I walked into that field willingly.”

“Montana, you said it yourself. You were sixteen when this started. Which of us had a fucking clue what the world was about at sixteen?” Dahlia asked. “I sure as hell didn’t.”

“I appreciate that, but I wasn’t sixteen when I followed those orders, when I…” Montana rubbed his temple wearily.

“Did you go back to the sub?” Vadisk asked.

“Yes.”

“What happened then?”

“Things were different. I was different. I even considered going AWOL, but in the end, I didn’t. I continued to follow orders, to do the work I was assigned, but I pushed back. Hard. I demanded online access so I could check for myself what was going on and prevent collateral damage. Always in the back of my mind, I wondered and worried that I’d missed something and my bits of code were killing people. Sleep eluded me, and then I started to feel trapped, imprisoned.”

“Oh.” Dahlia cupped Montana’s cheek. “The claustrophobia.”

Montana grimaced. “It was triggered by my guilt. It wasn’t bad at first, just the occasional tightness in my chest, some trouble breathing. By the end of my assignment, well…it was just as I told you outside the grotto—tachycardia, chills, trembling, the constant feeling of choking.”

Dahlia sighed sadly. “It sounds horrible.”

“It was.” Montana lifted her hand and kissed her palm, encouraging her to stand, certain it couldn’t be comfortable kneeling all that time.

She smiled and ran her hand through his hair fondly, before reclaiming her spot on the couch.

“Your Grand Master sent you here because of your hacking skills,” Vadisk mused aloud.

“She did,” Montana confirmed. “She wanted to have all the bases covered since this is essentially a locked-door mission. There’s no backup coming if shit goes sideways, so we have to be able to handle whatever arises in Crimea on our own. Between Dahlia’s connections, your security background and ability to translate Russian and Ukrainian, and my computer skills, the Grand Master hoped we’d be prepared for whatever comes our way.”

“Smart,” Vadisk muttered, suddenly looking at Montana quite differently than he had before when he’d questioned his presence on the mission. “Montana. I’m sorry.”

This time, Montana’s smile came easily. “No harm, no foul. I would have asked the same question if I was working with the limited details.”

“Even so, I shouldn’t have… I behaved badly.”

Montana discovered another way he and Vadisk were alike. They were both hard on themselves, unable to accept forgiveness easily. “It’s forgotten.”

“Why didn’t you tell us all of this before?” Vadisk asked. “When you told us about the claustrophobia?”

Montana forced himself to look his husband in the eye. “I was afraid it would make you think less of me.”

Vadisk chuckled, though the sound was pure misery without a hint of humor. “You were worried about what I would think?”

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