Page 21 of Promises in the Dark

Fuck, she was making it hard to refuse.

She was coming with me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I had to admit, though, the way she’d turned the tables was impressive. She took a dangerous situation and spun it to her advantage. As much as I hated to admit it, I respected her for that.

A small smirk tugged at my lips.

Not bad, Red. Not bad at all.

“Fine,” I said finally, relenting. “You can come with me.”

She grinned, victory written all over her face. “Good choice, Lieutenant.”

“But you’d better not try to fuck me over,” I warned, my tone terse and my eyes narrowed on her. “I’m doing you a favor, here. Don’t forget that.”

Red gave a brief nod, and I turned my attention back to the road. The dark, empty stretch of Kandahar lay ahead, the shitty transition from endless sand to crumbling cityscape staring me down. The memory of the scorching heat and the dunes still clung to my skin like the fucking dust in the air.

Before hitting the city, we had to cross the desolate expanse of the desert. The moon threw its eerie light over the dunes, casting weird, twisted shadows that seemed to dance with the wind. The only sounds were the low hum of distantmilitary vehicles and the occasional gust that carried the damn whispers of the desert.

My eyes scanned the barren landscape, searching for the few landmarks that would lead us back to base. The road stretched ahead, lit by those crappy flickering streetlights that barely did their job. I had the route memorized, but fuck, the city wasn’t the same. Buildings that used to stand tall were now rubble, the streets clogged with makeshift barricades like a warzone waiting to happen.

The scent of dust and smoke permeated the air, choking out any fresh breath I could take. Navigating the tight alleys and bustling market zones was a pain, but I relied on my instincts and my past knowledge of this shithole to get us through.

I felt Red’s gaze was fixed on me, burning a hole in the side of my head. She was staring but didn’t have the balls to say anything, making the silence heavy as hell.

“What?” I asked in response, giving her a quizzical look as I kept my eyes on the road ahead.

She quickly looked away, pretending like she hadn’t been staring. “Nothing,” she lied, shaking her head like it was nothing.

Bullshit.

“What is it?” I pressed, my expression flat. “I can tell there’s something you want to ask.”

Her gaze met mine, a little hesitant. “You never told me your name,” she finally spoke up. “I saw Lieutenant Rogue on your file, but that’s not quite a name, is it?”

“That’s my call sign,” I replied, giving her nothing. “My real name isn’t important. Call me Rogue. It’s all the name you need to know.”

She sighed, clearly not happy with that half-ass answer, but she didn’t push.

“Fine, keep your secrets. Can you at least tell me why ‘Rogue’?”

“I was difficult to control,” I responded, keeping my face straight. “Always questioned the orders I was given. Never wanted to follow the rules. But I’d complete missions that no one else could.”

Red’s eyes narrowed and her head tilted slightly to the side. “Why did you enlist in the military?”

“Because I had nowhere else to go,” I replied, my expression turning somber.

That was it. Plain and simple. No family, no one to fucking turn to. The military was the only place that gave me structure, purpose, the kind of shit I’d been missing for too damn long.

My real name carried a story, though—a messed-up tale of a kid who saw the world for what it really was way too early. Innocence peeled away, leaving nothing but the rotten truth. In this fucked-up world, you were either the hunter or the prey. And that kid? He was long gone, buried deep where no one could drag him back out.

I wasn’t about to let Red peek into that darkness, into the shitstorm that was buried inside me. The pain, the regret, the hell I’d been through—it wasn’t something I was gonna share. Not for her sake, and definitely not for mine.

“What else did you read in my file?” I asked bluntly, cutting straight to the point.

She shifted, caught off guard. “Just the basics,” she replied, her words stumbling over each other. “Your medical history, your injuries, nothing too personal.”

I stared at her, waiting, the silence pressing until she caved.

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