Page 19 of Mariposa
My body aches from going so hard in the gym. I hoped all those deadlifts and bench presses would push me to the point of exhaustion and hurt. But it doesn’t compare to the pain I feel in my head like a prison. Being a cadre again…it’s triggering. That’s a fucking understatement.
I pull out the piece of wood I’m working on, along with my custom-made knife, and carve. Even though my body is in North Carolina, my mind is transported back to Iraq.
“Help me! Help me!”
Damon Hawk’s screams still linger in my head, but it was the silence that followed that was horribly louder than his pleas for mercy. The silence meant he was gone, and he’s another brother we couldn’t save. Fuck. He just died, and I don’t want to accept that we failed him.
Don’t feel.Don’t fucking feel it.
I walk out of the torture building, now painted in black from all the smoke. The smell of a human corpse burning isn’t something that will ever leave you. Seeing Damon Hawke in that way will forever haunt my nightmares and make my heart chip further from the cruel reality of war.
We were so fucking close. I was counting it down in my head. I was right behind Operator Bane when Zeke broke open the door.
Ten, nine, eight…
We were just a few seconds from saving his life, and now? He’s gone.
I’m coughing, trying to control myself, and constantly wiping my eyes from the burning sensation. I suck in the fresh air, letting the cold winds run through my lungs as I blink through blurred vision. The area is surrounded by aircraft and special operators from all branches, but it doesn’t matter anymore.
It’s a mission that failed.
Grim stalks past me, brushing his shoulder against mine. He’s taken off his signature Reaper mask, and I recognize that familiar look all too well.
Guilt, grief, and dark demons.
“Well, if it isn’t Master Sergeant O’Connell, Operator fucking…” He stops walking, and his ocean eyes brighten a little.
“Grim.” We embrace each other in a brotherly hug. We pat each other’s backs and shake each other’s gloved hands.
“Jesus…you’re still out on missions, old man?” he jokes.
I take off my balaclava and run a hand through my hair.
“You’ll have to take my skills and ambition out of my cold, dead hands, Grim.”
“I don’t blame you. Even when I’m home, I’m aching to return to work. It’s an obsession.”
He can’t match my gaze anymore and starts to play with something in his pocket. He pulls out a pink cross necklace and smirks.
“It’s an honor to have worked on this mission with you. It feels like old times.” He shakes his head, and with a stressed gaze, he meets my distant eyes.
“How the fuck do you do it, Master Sergeant?”
“Do what, brother?” My brow lifts as I look for my pack of cigarettes.
“Live up to your name? Live up to the military’s expectations? With so much death that surrounds you and me. We’re the team leaders, the ones everyone and the military depend on to make these difficult decisions. How do you fucking do it all without breaking?” Grim’s deep voice searches for comfort that I can’t give him. Truth be told, I don’t know how to do it. I’ve become numb. Fear is a fucking weakness out here. If I dare dwell in those emotions, I have a feeling it’ll lead to my death.
“Stop talking like that. You’re lacking conviction. There’s no place for that here. I taught you that.”
Grim stops twirling the cross necklace and places it back into his pocket like it’s sacred. I don’t remember him being religious.
He parts his lips, but a familiar voice blares behind my shoulder.
“The legendary fucking Operator Kade O’Connell! Holy shit!” Kane Slaughter, call sign Operator Bane, comes up from behind me. He places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze, and I smirk. He’s on Grim’s SEAL team.
“Sir! It’s an honor to have you here with us tonight.”
I grimace.
