Page 97 of Mariposa
“Mariposa.”
“No! Kade!”
“It’s a fucking order!” he growls back.
“I don’t give a sh?—"
“I’m still in charge of you at the end of the day, and you will remember how to speak to someone of higher rank!”
“Stop acting like I’m just another soldier to you!”
He rounds the table and stands over me with a stone-cold expression that could freeze the world.
“I can’t breathe! I feel like I’m drowning!”
I continue to pant uneasily, and I unzip my camo top, but then the zipper gets jammed. I groan in frustration as I continue to pull and pull, but nothing gets it off me.
I shake my head and concede.
“Please. Get it off me. Get it off me; help me! Please, Master Sergeant!”
Kade immediately reacts, and his massive hands swallow mine. He grips the zipper and with one strong pull, it unjams and he’s throwing off my top. A wave of relief washes over me. It flops on top of his desk. I exhale a long breath, and he swallows me in his embrace. I wrap my arms around his firm body and let his scent fill my senses. I bury myself in cedar as I let myself fall apart.
Images of my dad come storming into my head, forcing me to claw my own eyes.
“It’s okay to break, Violet. Castle is a good soldier. Fuck,” he says right before he kisses the top of my head. I continue to whimper into his chest and claw at his back. Still, the trembling doesn’t stop, and the sounds of him choking on his blood continue to echo in my ears.
“I don’t think I’m cut out for this after all.”
“We don’t quit,” he quips back immediately in a stern tone. I continue to scrape my nails into his back muscles. He doesn’t resist when I do that; instead, he holds onto me tighter, like he wants to take my pain away. “Have faith; she’s going to be okay, you hear me?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not quitting, but it isn’t fair.”
“War isn’t fair, Mariposa. It’s brutal and cruel. We save who we can.”
He holds me like that for what feels like hours, running his palm in circles against my back until I can get my breathing under control.
“Permission to call you Kade?”
He nods.
“Kade.” I gaze up at him, and when I do, I immediately regret it.
“Violet.”
“How do you not break?”
He lets me go, and the cruel eyes return. He turns away from me, walks back to his desk, and downs the glass of bourbon in three gulps. He sits in his chair and glares at me.
“You can’t break something that’s already broken.”
He runs a hand through his hair like he wants to say more, but refrains. Another flash of lightning illuminates his office, and then it’s gone again.
“How do you get used to losing soldiers?”
He glares at me. His once-relaxed demeanor shifts into something dark and depraved.
“Turner Swanson. Age thirty-two. A Navy SEAL. Died from an IED. Jim Gray. Age eighteen. Green Beret. Died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound due to stress. Did it right in front of me. Rick Pierce. Age twenty-five. A Special Forces soldier. Died from a grenade on a mission that I led. Damon Hawke. Age twenty-two. He was burned alive because we were too fucking late. Owen Pearl. Died from two GSWs because he froze. Frederick Schofield. Age thirty-seven. Dead because of war. Now do you see why I’m so fucking hard on all of you? Why graduating is nearly impossible? Why everyone calls me a fucking asshole?! A cruel monster? It’s to save your lives!” He grips his glass and hammers it onto his desk. The glass chips, and I jump when it collides.
