Page 31 of Silent Dust
She admired her father’s surgical precision, not just his skill but his complete control over life and death. She wanted more than his stature; she wanted to surpass him, to carve her own empire by solving mysteries others feared. Each forensic breakthrough was not just work, it was a birthright, a legacy she was determined to claim.
Striding through her apartment, every gesture sharp and deliberate, she exuded superiority. Others called her arrogant; she thrived on it. Whispers were fuel for her fire. Obsession with perfection fed her narcissism; her self-worth rose and fell with each achievement, and everyone else was a stepping stone, a tool for her elevation.
But beneath that polished exterior lurked dread—the fear of exposure. Flora’s calm competence unsettled her, a mirror reflecting vulnerabilities Charlotte wished to hide. Flora’s respect and steadiness made her an obstacle to be neutralized.
Packing her bag with brutal efficiency, Charlotte pushed aside doubt. The world would know her name. She would rise anew, more cunning and ruthless. This was not a setback but fuel.
Her heels clicked on hardwood as her mind whirled with indignation. Flora’s smugness haunted her, a specter of defeat. She hated that Flora still breathed, still had a chance. Wally’s failure had shattered her illusion. The knowledge that Flora lived hit her like a tidal wave.
Gripping the kitchen counter, trembling yet steadying, she accepted a brutal truth. She couldn’t shield Wally anymore. He was expendable, his incompetence deserving punishment. To herself, she was the puppet master. To him, a merciless tyrant holding his fate.
Fear clenched her stomach. Wally had cracked. The police had him. He would spill everything. The chaos she believed contained threatened to engulf her. Her thoughts tumbled, seeing his face—defeated, broken, betraying her. Her fury surged. She knew he'd turn on her the moment she hesitated.
Her eyes locked on her phone, screen glowing like a warning. Her finger hovered over Wally’s number. Heart pounded, each ring a hammer blow. She hissed, “Come on, Wally. Pick up.”
Voicemail. Stone sinking in her gut. Her fist clenched, anger flooding. Wally was her weapon and shield, now both useless. The police would reach him. They’d break him. The fragile line snapped. Her empire threatened by his weakness.
She stared into her reflection—a cold mask with tight jaw and trembling fists, not of fear but rage barely contained. Amaster manipulator undone by chaos she couldn’t tame. Flora and Wally had become twin threats.
She tore her gaze away, flinging belongings into a duffel with reckless urgency. “Wally, you idiot,” she muttered, discarding a pair of heels, the ones that once made her feel invincible. Her city, life, ambitions all quicksand pulling under. Dreams of forensic glory slipping through her fingers.
Rage cooled to ruthless resolve. Flora’s smug face burned in her mind. No more obstacles. She grabbed her passport, stuffing it into the bag. She had to fix this or erase the problem entirely. No one stood in her way now.
A dark certainty crystallized: Flora had to be removed. If Wally was liability enough, Flora was contagion. Her eyes glinted with terrible purpose. She would neutralize Flora before the threat grew. Survival was not enough; she would rewrite her story and claim absolute power.
Zipping her bag, adrenaline surged through Charlotte’s veins. Her face settled into an emotionless mask of cold calculation. The apartment that had once felt like a sanctuary now pressed in on her like a cage she’d long outgrown. Outside those walls, freedom shimmered—offering anonymity, safety, and the chance to reinvent herself.
Her detached eyes swept the room one last time, cataloging each item as a stepping stone to escape. From her purse, she withdrew a small, unassuming box—her personal toolkit for transformation. But the real power lay waiting for her in the storage unit she’d prepared: a hidden stronghold stocked with everything she needed to become whoever she must be.
That storage unit was more than a hideout. It was a carefully curated arsenal of new identities, forged with precision and subtlety. There, she could shed the remnants of Charlotte. The woman who almost lost everything and don a fresh face. It wouldallow her to move unseen, to slip into Flora’s world undetected, to study every habit, every vulnerability of Flora and her family.
It was here she would lay the groundwork for her return. Patient and relentless, she would find the weak link, the overlooked fissure in their defenses, and pry open the door she needed. Reinvention wasn’t just survival—it was the first step in reclaiming control and power.
Her voice was cold and deliberate. “Wally, you will regret this. And Flora, she should wish she had never crossed me.” Her fingers curled into fists. Not from panic but from satisfaction—she knew she had options, contingencies only she could execute.
16 - BEAR
The team gatheredin the conference center aboard the carrier, the atmosphere buzzing with a mixture of adrenaline and exhaustion. Thankfully, there were plenty of water bottles on the table for them to grab, and Bear made sure to hydrate as he settled into a chair. But even the cool liquid did little to ease the mounting stress. The mission had been intense, and the physical exertion, combined with the anxiety of Flora being in a coma three thousand miles away, was beginning to take its toll on him.
Link moved to the front of the room, setting up the video conference equipment. As he connected the system, the familiar hum of the technology filled the air, but Bear felt restless. He glanced around at his teammates—Warden, Moose, Nova, Dog, Link, and Blast—each of them still riding the high of their successful operation, but his mind was elsewhere.
The screen flickered to life, and Commander Michaels, alongside Admiral Grayson, appeared at the head of the conference table, their facial expressions carefully neutral yet hinting at the relief behind the formality. The room was tense; echoes of metallic footsteps and distant radio chatter still lingered from the operations far behind them, but now the focus was on debriefing.
“Team,” Michaels started, “I want to commend you for your exceptional performance during this mission. You’ve successfully neutralized what we believe may be the last shipment of Silent Dust. Your quick decision-making and precision prevented what could have been a catastrophic disaster.” He paused briefly, eyeing each team member sharply. “Your actions directly prevented a potential mass casualty event and safeguarded countless lives.”
Admiral Grayson nodded in agreement, clearly proud. “The details of how you handled this — from the stealth insertion, to the careful placement of charges, to the rapid exfiltration — demonstrate the highest standards of operational excellence. Your teamwork in the field, especially under extreme pressure, prevented Al-Harb from transferring that shipment to China, which could have resulted in a major escalation. This was a critical mission, and you executed it flawlessly.”
The weight of the words settled heavily in the room, and for a moment, pride flickered across Bear’s chest. Yet, a gnawing impatience lurked beneath the surface; the unspoken urgency of wanting to be with Flora now pressed down hard.
He shifted slightly in his seat, voice rising just enough to cut through the thick air. “Sirs, with all due respect, can we go home?” His eyes bore into Commander Michaels. “I need to be with Flora. She’s... she’s fighting to wake up. I have to get to her.”
For a second, the room went still. All eyes on him, waiting for a response. Bear’s chest tightened, the ache for his wife especially sharp now — an overwhelming need to be by her side, to hold her hand, to tell her to hang on.
Then, unexpectedly, both Michaels and Grayson broke into laughter — their chuckles breaking the heavy silence and catching the team off guard. The tension dissolved into bewildered glances and uncertain smiles.
“Do you think you can be ready to board a helo in thirty minutes?” Admiral Grayson grinned, a twinkle in his eye. “As soon as I heard you guys were back on board, I made arrangements for a Black Hawk to pick you up and fly you straight to US Naval Base Guam. There, a C-130 will be waiting to take you to Norfolk.”
A cheer erupted from the team, a wave of relief washing over them. Moose clapped Bear on the back, nearly knocking him out of his chair. “Did you hear that? We’re getting out of here! Time to go home, my friend!”
