Page 17 of Brutal Collateral

Those words she said to me a few years back vibrate through me like some silent command and it all snaps together for me. I trust her with my life, just not my true identity. “Where are we going?”

“A military plane will take you to Italy.”

“Why? What is my team needed for inItaly? The fight is here! Where is Samuels?” I ask about the CIA commander I technically report to.

I took this call from Cherise because she’s my best friend.

“Samuels is in DC explaining why...” Her voice drowns out when bombs go off around us.

“Do you hear that?” I yell to her.

“That’s to cover you.” Her voice crackles, going in and out. “Get your fucking ass out of there!”

I end the call and put my head down. My heart pounding, I sniff and fight the feeling that I’ve failed. Like the Trident’s been torn from my graspagain.

My team stares at me, they need me so I pull it together.

Clearing my throat, I say, “A battalion of rebels is on the way. We have to get out of here, our munitions are dead. An airlift is coming to the roof.”

They don’t argue, and we start climbing stairs, breathing in dust and death. On the roof in the smoke-filled air, lights shine with the Morse code signal.

The black bird lands and we pile on. Lifting away, I stare at the decimated landscape. Buildings look like Swiss cheese, sides sheared right off. I weep for the lives turned upside down. I’m still fucking human.

Fighting tears and hunger and the need for a hot shower, I meditate on the bird so I don’t detonate out of anger.

We land at Camp Ederle in Vincenza, Italy where I’m brought to an officer’s barrack by the CO’s admin to get cleaned up.

“All I have are dirty clothes.” I slap my rucksack.

“I brought in a fresh uniform for you, Lieutenant.” She points to the cot with camo gear, socks, and boots laid out. In plastic wrapping is a bra and panty.

Finally, someone respects my rank. Sniffing, I give in and take that shower, feeling like I let so many people down.

I comb out my wet hair that’s still blonde, but a softer tone from a box and not straight bleach anymore. I twist it into a tight braid. Then I get dressed and wait for my strength to come back to me.

Outside, I go to join my team in the debriefing tent, but the admin stops me. “You’reneeded over there.” She points to a man standing off in the distance.

My heart stops, seeing dark hair, olive skin, and golden eyes like my mother. Oh my God, now this all makes sense. Only a man as connected as the head of the Greek Mafia could get me exfilled out of a war zone and then flown toItaly.

But I hold it together and hike up to the man who put me on this path until I’m standing less than a foot from my blood. “Alexander, what the hell are you doing here?”

On my one-year anniversary with the Navy, Alexander broke his silence and sent me a letter with an update. While I’ve been in the service where I thought he’d forgotten about me, Alexander had not only killed our father but Mr. Christou as well. Along with my brothers Ares, Atlas, and Ambrose, they reclaimed the Greek crown that Father had lost years back. My brothers have been spilling blood in Lower Manhattan ever since.

Irishblood. Good. I hope that guard was the first to go. Okay, maybe not.

But I never heard from Alexander again and I’ve felt so alone all this time.

Now he shows up here? Fuck him.

“I need you to come home,” he answers me, sounding so...dead. Like fighting the Irish has taken a toll on him.

“There’s a warhere, Alex,” I argue. “I’m neededhere, and I’m staying.”

He grabs me by the shoulders, clearly not used to hearing no. “Now, you listen to me, Ava...”

“Hadleigh, my name is Hadleigh Castille. The nameyougave me.” I wiggle away from him, angry he’s forcing me to be that scared eighteen year old again.

“You have to come home. I need you.”

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