Chapter 15 - The Unyielding Line
The cold wind rustled the bare branches of the oak trees surrounding the farmhouse.
The silver briefcase on the hood of the black sedan gleamed under the harsh headlights.
Millions of dollars in untraceable corporate funds dangled before us like a gilded cage.
All we had to do was turn a blind eye to the thousands of veterans still fighting across the country.
All we had to do was accept our own comfort while abandoning our brothers and sisters in arms.
I looked at General Reed, and a knowing smile passed silently between old comrades.
We had faced impossible odds in Al-Anbar, in Washington, and in Courtroom 4B.
We had never compromised our honor then, and we certainly were not going to start now.
"You brought your briefcase to the wrong address, messenger," I said, my voice cutting like ice.
"Tell your corporate masters that a soldier's loyalty is never for sale at any price."
"We didn't build this alliance to negotiate convenience with thieves in trench coats."
"We built it to eradicate corruption down to its very roots."
The messenger's polite smile vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, hardened expression.
"You are making a very grave mistake, Colonel Hayes," the man said softly.
"Powerful people do not like losing control of the board."
"Then tell them to bring a bigger army," Reed added, his hand resting firmly on his sidearm.
"Because we are ready for whatever they send our way."
The messenger stared at us for a long, silent moment without uttering another word.
Then he slowly closed the silver briefcase with a sharp, echoing snap.
He climbed back into the black sedan, slammed the door shut, and threw the car into reverse.
The tires kicked up a cloud of gravel as the vehicle sped away down the dark country road.
We watched the red taillights fade into the distance until they disappeared entirely.
General Reed let out a long breath, shaking his head with a grim, warrior's smile.
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"Well, it looks like our quiet retirement in Pine Creek is officially canceled, Lena," Reed said.
"It was overrated anyway, Isaac," I replied, wheeling myself back toward the warm lights of the house.
