September 2070. Washington D.C. United Nations of America.
The dull roar of the military transport aircraft’s engines filled the cabin as Liam sat with a firm grip on the seat handles. He wasn’t entirely comfortable, used to the familiar pressure of a bulletproof vest. Instead, he wore civilian attire, a snug black polo with the logo of Valorus Security Group picked out in silver thread, tucked into dark gray tactical pants. His boots tapped an uneven tempo on the metal-studded composite decking that separated the operator from the cargo bay beneath.
The aircraft trembled as it sliced through the turbulent Washington D.C. air, and the veteran’s eyes narrowed in well-concealed stress. Tapping his boots was a steadying comfort as Liam had never been truly comfortable on an aircraft, even though he likely had more hours in the C-5 than its current pilots. He was distracted from his internal battle by an unfamiliar voice.
“They seem to get younger every year, don’t they?” The fellow passenger beside him said while gesturing to one of the crew chiefs going about their post-flight routine.
Liam looked at the speaker, who appeared to be in his mid-seventies, a rarity these days, before glancing at the subject in question.
The admittedly young-looking crew chief was checking the straps of the overhead storage with an ease that spoke to countless repetitions. He bore a black flight suit with the bright red, blue, and green flag of the United Nations of America on his shoulder with the cocky pride common in the youth.
Liam hesitated to engage the man, preferring his silent grief, but didn’t want to appear rude. “You’re not wrong,” he allowed, “but his generation will hopefully be the ones to rebuild what we screwed up during ours.”
The older passenger snorted. “You’re not quite as old as me. It was my generation that screwed things up, and yours that paid the price for it…”
His voice turned pensive, “...but maybe you’re right. We finally seem to be returning to the sense of normalcy we had when I was a boy.”
Liam chose not to reply and gave silent thanks to the respirator that hid his expression of annoyance. The mask was another source of discomfort. Though most of the population had discarded them a few years after the pandemic, passage on military travel required them.
He wished he could see through a window, but the military transports were a solid shell. Windows were a luxury reserved for the wealthy and the powerful, and Liam was neither. Still, he could almost sense the plane’s every move as if he were one with the aging aircraft. It was a man-machine connection forged through countless hours in the sky traveling from one objective to another.
The elderly man was not to be deterred even though Liam hadn’t replied.
“You know,” he continued. “When I was young, there were private companies that handled air travel. The military was only used for operations directly related to the country’s defense.”
“I’m sure that was nice,” Liam placated as he felt the slight turbulence that indicated they were approaching the runway. He heard the tell-tale whine of the landing gear as it extended.
Seconds felt like minutes, but eventually, the tires screeched as they made contact with the tarmac. For a fleeting moment, Liam felt a surge of adrenaline—the thrill of touching down after a long time away from home.
The other man gave a rueful chuckle when the noise lowered to an allowable degree. “Actually, it wasn’t. The lines were long, the staff was usually rude, and the seats were just as uncomfortable as these. At least these days, the nationalization of security and commerce has reduced the number of hoops to jump through to get off the ground. Unless, of course, you’re on the UNA’s no-fly list or want to go to a destination not approved by the Party.”
Liam glanced over at the other man. His words bordered on a critique of the Party. While such speech wasn’t strictly illegal, and the UNA government officially observed the First Amendment of the original Constitution of the United States, the older guy risked censuring or de-platforming from the various systems underpinning American society.
The man waved him off. “I’m too old to worry about what others think. It’s a miracle I’ve made it this long.”
Liam nodded, silently agreeing to the last statement, although it elicited an unfavorable comparison to his mother’s condition. MERS-44 had more than decimated the world population, and while the UNA may have produced a cure and the ongoing cycle of death had ended, the psychological effects remained. The fact that the older man still lived was a testament to immense luck and a hefty helping of science.
Finally, the aircraft rolled to a stop, sparing Liam from further conversation. Still, he needed to observe the niceties of society.
“It was good talking to you,” the former operator said as he rose from his seat and hefted the single carry-on he was allowed.
“Likewise,” the old man replied good-naturedly.
When the young crew chiefs, for Liam couldn’t help thinking about them as such in his head, ushered them off the aircraft, he immediately picked up his pace as he strode down the egress stairs.
He stepped off the aircraft, the cool autumn air washed over him, and he took a deep breath, savoring the familiar scent of oil, exhaust, and home. The tarmac to the terminal stretched out before him, an unyielding path that had seen the departure and return of countless people just like him. For now, the trail ahead led to some time with his family before reporting back to the battlefield.
Liam hurried to the exit of the terminal and found the battered black jeep that Amal had sent to pick him up. He waved to the driver, and they pulled the vehicle into the pick-up lane. The operative circled the back of the jeep to memorize the license plate and check for any other occupants in the car. To mask the habitual surveillance, he opened the trunk and shoved his bag containing his personal effects and trusty Glock 19 inside.
Returning to the front of the vehicle, he climbed in with a nod to the dark-haired younger man at the wheel. “Sorry, I don’t know your name,” Liam said before closing the door.
“Ramirez,” the man said simply. “Boss said to get you to HQ double-time, but I’m sure we can stop for a bite to eat or something to drink after your flight.”
“Sorry, It’s a personal emergency. I need to get back home as quickly as possible,” Liam explained apologetically.
“I get it,” Ramirez said with a subdued tone as he skillfully navigated the jeep through the press of arriving and departing vehicles.
As they left Ronald Reagan National Airport and started driving through the more residential areas of the DC metroplex, Liam sat quietly while they rolled through mostly deserted city streets. His eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the sights of a city he once knew well, now transformed by the relentless pace of reconstruction.
“Been a while since you’ve been back?” Ramirez asked.
Liam nodded, a slight frown creasing his face. “Yeah, things have changed quite a bit since I last came home.”
The city had indeed changed. Tall, modern skyscrapers crowded the city center where once dirty, humble buildings had provided shelter and life to the city’s poor. The streets were wider, cleaner, and decorated with banners boasting Party slogans of progress and development. The wounds of MERS-44 had faded into history. Still, the scars remained—symbolized by the stark dichotomy between the residential city areas and the sprawling suburbs that the Agricultural Bureau tore down to make room for more farms. The landscape was almost unrecognizable, just a few years removed from his last visit.
Amid the gleaming architecture, signs of the past remained. Empty lots, crumbling structures, and gigantic graveyards stood as silent memorials to a global pandemic that killed off a third of the population and regressed the world by over a hundred years. Memories of comrades lost, battles fought, and the unbreakable bonds forged on the field of combat echoed in Liam’s mind as the ride took him on an impromptu tour of the past.
As the jeep continued its journey, they passed an old hospital, half-demolished, its facade revealing layers of history. The sight stirred something within the former operator, and he couldn’t help but speak his thoughts aloud.
“I remember that hospital,” he said with a nostalgic tinge. “I had just enlisted, and people were stacking bodies like corded firewood. In the early days of the pandemic, we didn’t have plots to bury people. Instead, the smoke of crematoriums running around the clock, day and night, blackened the skies.”
Ramirez glanced at the building as they passed. “Things have changed,” he remarked. “Some parts of the city have grown so much while others look like they’re straight out of a hippie commune.”
Liam nodded, a mix of melancholy in his expression. “Yes, it has. Change is inevitable, I suppose. Just like in our line of work, you adapt to survive.”
As they approached the headquarters in McLean, the streets looked like a ghost town. Reconstruction hadn’t made it quite this far, and Amal kept a firm perimeter around the compound to keep it free from looters and criminals. When Ramirez pulled into a reserved parking spot, Liam grabbed his bag and exited the vehicle.
“Thanks for the ride, Ramirez,” Liam said, smiling from behind his mask. “And thanks for listening to me prattle on.”
The crinkling around the other ’s eyes was the only evidence of a grin. “All we’ve got are our stories.”
Liam nodded and gave the other man a firm handshake before parting ways. Soon, he was in his shitbox of a truck and heading out on the open road.
The tires of Liam’s old pickup truck hummed rhythmically against the worn country road as he drove toward his parent's farm outside Bluemont, Virginia. Even before the pandemic, it had been a somewhat rural community with large tracts of land devoted to farming or forest preservation. Now it was little more than an outpost amid expansive green acreage. A last bastion of civilization before reaching the truly wild.
The setting sun painted the landscape around him with warm hues against the fiery backdrop of autumn leaves, and a sense of familiarity washed over him as he passed through the trees and neared his childhood home.
The sprawling fields stretched out on either side of the road, a sight he missed dearly during his years in Central America. He rolled down the window to catch the gentle breeze that held the faint scent of fallen trees and wet earth, invoking cherished memories of his youth.
As he approached the familiar colonial house, its white paint gleaming with the sun's soft glow, Liam spotted his parents patiently waiting on the stoop. He felt his heart quicken with anticipation and a considerable measure of worry. The prodigal son was fortunate to have parents to come home to, even if sickness had visited their doorstep. The pandemic had stolen entire generations away from them, and nearly everyone he knew had lost someone to its deadly touch.
Liam parked the truck, and as he stepped out, his military-trained eyes scanned the surroundings, habitually checking for anything out of the ordinary. The tranquility of the farm, though, assured him that he was in a place where he could finally let his guard down.
With a smile stretching across his face, he took the short path to the steps of the expansive wraparound porch. His only companion was the sound of his boots crunching against the gravel path.
His father, a rugged and kind-hearted man with silver streaks in his hair, stood tall, waiting to embrace his son. His mother, ever the warm and nurturing presence, held back tears of joy as she stood beside her husband. They were two trees, grown close after long decades so that their roots had twined together and provided a shared canopy to shelter all the other creatures.
As Liam approached, his parents’ faces lit up, and they opened their arms wide. No words were needed, only the embrace of a family long separated by distance and duty. The combined hug was tight, filled with the love that only a parent and child can share.
“Welcome home, son,” his father said, his voice clinical as he sized up Liam.
Feeling the frailty of his once powerful father’s frame, Liam was unbothered by his father’s demeanor. His mom and dad were total opposites—ice and fire combined in an alchemic reaction to produce Liam and his sister. He nodded and looked at his mom to give her a heartfelt, “It’s good to be back.”
His mother wiped away a tear and smiled lovingly at him, “We’ve missed you.”
“I missed you guys too,” Liam said enthusiastically before his voice dropped in apparent regret. “Mom, I’m sorry I wasn’t here…I didn’t know…I would’ve come sooner.”
“You couldn’t have done anything anyway, Liam. We needed the time to come to grips with the situation before complicating it by telling you kids.” Liam was unsure if his father felt any measure of guilt for his actions, he was always quick to relieve his son’s own. Logic always won over emotion and as a military man, he was intimate with the pain when duty conflicted with familial piety. “Let’s talk about it inside. Your mom made her famous chicken pot pie.”
Liam followed his parents inside the warm and cozy home. Even though it wasn’t cold yet, a merry fire crackled in the living room fireplace. They led him to the welcoming kitchen, where the aroma of his mother’s cooking filled the air. The scent alone triggered a flood of cherished memories of Liam and his sister eating this meal on chilly nights. His parents had already set the table with care, and the pot pie, golden and inviting, sat steaming on the stove.
His mom, a skilled cook with a heart of gold, smiled as she served him a generous portion of the comforting dish. “Dig in, Liam, your favorite.”
Liam couldn’t help but feel as if his heart were breaking. Even amid life-threatening sickness, his mom was still worried about him—going out of her way to prepare something special.
Liam took his first bite, and the familiar flavors exploded on his taste buds. The real thing was always better than the memory. His parents patiently waited to speak as he savored every mouthful, relishing the taste he had missed so much during his time away.
Stolen novel; please report.
Sitting across from him, his father observed with a mixture of pride and concern. “How are you, son?” he asked like a commander waiting for a report.
Liam paused momentarily, considering what he should say first. “My last mission was a bust. We lost a man after walking into an ambush. After the fight, there was little of value. The whole damn thing was a waste of time, and someone died for it.”
“Losses are expected in combat, Liam. As long as you followed protocol, you shouldn’t get hung up over it. Murphy’s Law eventually catches everyone. Besides,” he continued. “the Southern border is a mess, but where in the world is it not? Things seem to be improving here, but Europe is still a warzone, Africa and the Middle East are little more than warring tribes, and China is a towering shadow over all of Asia.”
Liam’s arm put a gentle hand on her husbands arm, “Yes, but how are you?” she stressed. “We don’t care about the battlefield. Right, Michael?”
His father looked uncomfortable at the light-handed rebuke Liam’s mom gave him, but he wasn’t the type to apologize. He merely looked at his son expectantly.
“To be honest,” Liam quietly answered. “I feel like a failure. I thought signing on with Valorus would result in a different set of missions. Maybe we’d be doing humanitarian work, or guarding boring facilities, but Amal only seems to bid for the worst contracts. We’re always on the front lines doing the shit work.”
His mother leaned in, her eyes showing both understanding and a touch of worry. “You’ve been at this a long time, Liam. You can’t solve all the world’s problems. You couldn’t while in the army, the CIA, or even now. Maybe it’s time to settle down outside of a warzone?”
Liam nodded, swallowing his emotions and another bite of his mother’s delicious cooking. “Maybe you’re right. But what about you, mom? I didn’t mean to make this all about me. You’re the one who’s going through something far worse than I’ve had to deal with…Maybe I could stay here to help you guys out?”
His parents shared a knowing glance, a whole conversation passing in the blink of an eye, before Liam’s father nodded.
Liam’s father sized him up and down. “There’s nothing you can do, son. The treatment is too expensive for us to afford and your mom has decided to live out whatever time she has left as comfortably as possible.”
“What do you mean there’s nothing to do, dad,” Liam said angrily. “Since when do you just give up? You’re always trying to find the next angle—the best way to complete the mission.”
Liam’s dad shrugged, unfazed by his son’s outburst. The reaction always made him feel like he was the one being unreasonable. His dad had that effect on everyone around him. “I know when the math doesn’t line up, Liam. If we can’t get the treatment, then we move on to the next best option.”
“You’re talking about mom’s life, dad!” Liam shouted. “Not some fucking snarled logistics chain.”
His mother’s face softened, playing the peacemaker between the two men as she always did. “Honey, there’s nothing you can do. We didn’t see this coming, and you know how it is. There are only so many doctors to go around. Getting an appointment is a chore, and the treatment is more expensive than we could scrounge together.”
“Your mom and I have talked about it, son,” his dad’s voice was firm—issuing orders, not asking for feedback. “She’s decided to forgo any treatment. We’re just going to let the cancer play out and try to enjoy what time we have left.”
Liam wanted to reply back with something snide, but his mother interrupted whatever he was about to say.
“And I don’t want you or Kayla to put your lives on hold for me,” his mother said firmly. “I’m so proud of you two, going out in the world and making a difference. I don’t want you to stop just because I’ve only got a limited time left.”
“It doesn’t feel like I’m doing anything important anymore, Mom. Valorus keeps getting the worst contracts. More often than not, I’m neutralizing threats that would probably disappear on their own, given enough time.”
His father leaned back with a thoughtful expression before getting up and heading to the fridge. “You sound tired, son. Maybe you need a drink and a little perspective.”
He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and popped their caps using the wedding band on his left hand. He walked back to the table and slid one in front of his son before taking a pull of his beer.
Liam took a grateful sip while his mom gave his dad a stern look. “Michael Ward,” she scolded, using his father’s full name. “You’ll find any excuse to have a beer.”
His father returned a cheeky grin to his wife and reserved a wink for his son. “In wine, there is wisdom,” he quoted. “And our son needs some wisdom.”
His expression sobered as he took his seat once more. “Look, son, I know better than most how tiring the military life can become, but you need to ensure you’re quitting for the right reasons.”
He gestured with his the tip of his beer. “Look at this logically. Sure, those threats might disappear on their own, but in the meantime, they’ll steal life from the innocent and food from the hungry. There’s simply not enough to go around. The UNA is still rebuilding our food production capacity, and there are so many more mouths to feed by taking on Canada and Mexico.”
Liam’s dad leaned forward to fix him with a stare. “Besides, what else would you do? What skills do you have that don’t eventually lead you down the same path. It’s a shit world out there, son, and it needs people like you to clean it up.”
“Don’t put that pressure on him,” Liam’s mom intervened with a protective glance at her son. “It isn’t his job alone to maintain an empire—especially if it hurts. A man can only take so much before they become self-destructive.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Liam said soothingly. “I get what Dad means. I didn’t mean to come here and make this a pity party about me. You guys are what I want to talk about. If you had the money to get treatment, would that change your perspective?”
Liam’s father sighed, growing impatient. ”It’s impossible, son. We haven’t considered the question because we haven’t needed to.”
“Of course, I want to live longer and continue watching my babies grow up,” his mother smiled. “But how selfish would I be if I took out loans for a bunch of money just to buy another decade? You kids would be responsible for that debt someday. It’s not a decision I want to make.”
Liam sat back in his chair, his meal forgotten. He hadn’t thought through the ramifications of taking on that much debt. In the old days, creditors couldn’t go after the deceased’s children. But that was before the pandemic and the insane spike in unpaid debts. The financial system would’ve collapsed worse than it had if the central government hadn’t done something about it.
“How much are we talking about?”
“Three hundred-thousand credits,” his father said icily, daring his son to continue arguing. “Even if we sold our farm to cover the costs, the only entity that would buy it is the central government so that they could lease it out to another farmer, and they only offer bargain rates—it wouldn’t be enough.”
“And then we wouldn’t be able to leave anything for you and Kayla,” his mother added with a defeated sigh.
“Yeah,” Liam said as he pushed around some of the filling of his chicken pot pie with a fork. “I have some money saved up. I don’t have many expenses, and I don’t need it. Maybe you could afford the initial treatment, and then we could figure something else out later?”
“Don’t worry about that,” his mom assured him. “Even if we could afford the full treatment, there’s no guarantee the cancer would go into remission.”
“And even if it did, it could always come back,” his father drove the point home. “We’re not willing to rob the future for temporary relief.”
Liam sighed, the combinations of his dad’s logic and mom’s empathy making him want to give up. He wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. Until he could figure out his own plan, he’d have to accept their decision. “Okay, I get it. Does Kayla know?”
His dad scoffed good-naturedly. “No, and you’re not going to tell her. She’s needs to focus on her new company.”
“Oh?” Keeping Kayla in the dark didn’t sit right with him, but he wasn’t ready to get into another argument. Besides, Liam was curious despite the cloud hanging over their conversation. “How’s that coming along? What is it called again?”
His mom grinned, pride evident in her voice. “It’s going well. She’s named her company Apex Industries. She’s working on a new model for Artificial Intelligence assistance in agricultural production.”
Liam chuckled. “She made her company into a dad joke? Apex Industries—Artificial Intelligence? She literally named a company producing AI, AI?”
His mother blinked and then laughed aloud. “I didn’t even realize. But yes, you should call her soon and get an update. She said she would hit the market in the next six months. The government has already expressed an intense interest in licensing her work for their use.”
“Of course, they have,” Liam’s dad complained. “Those vultures in government are only interested in this technology now when they see a benefit to their agenda. They had thirty years to develop it themselves but did nothing with it. We were on the cusp of advanced AI before the pandemic ruined everything.”
“I vaguely remember AI when I was a kid,” Liam noted between sips of beer. “Didn’t something bad happen right before I joined the Army?”
“Bah,” his dad spat. “It was all the rage around the time you were born, but by the time the war kicked off, most of the smaller companies were acquired by big tech companies. After that, people were using AI to contradict the propaganda the United States had been pushing about our losses in the pandemic. Once the loss of life was too high to maintain a presence in the Middle East and the food shortages became a problem, most of the tech companies imploded.”
“Hard to care about the latest gadget when people are starving,” Liam dryly commented.
“Exactly right,” his dad smiled, his good mood restored now that they were talking about a topic he was interested in. “Every company lost a third of their workforce, and many of the older, most brilliant minds were early casualties to MERS. When that happened, all our exciting advancements seemed to evaporate overnight, and they were replaced by death and starvation.”
Liam’s mom put a reassuring hand on her husband’s arm. “Your father and I were lucky. When our old neighbors started falling to the illness, we had already moved out here. It was a blessing and the reason why I’m not upset now. We got to live when so many others didn’t make it.”
Michael smiled lovingly at his wife. “Yes, I’m so thankful for the time we’ve had.” He returned his gaze to his son. “You probably don’t remember, son. But when you were signing up with the army, the CIA was reaching out and trying to get me to come back on as a Logistics Officer. The entire world’s supply chains dried up practically overnight. I would likely be dead now if I had taken them up on their offer. We don’t have any regrets, certainly where you kids are concerned.”
“I’m glad you didn’t, Dad.” Liam smiled and cracked a joke to relieve some of the tension between them. “Sometimes, I feel like I was chasing your shadow my entire career.” He winked at his father. “You getting out of the game let me catch up.”
His dad laughed and drained his beer in a silent salute. “You’ve more than surpassed anything I did, son. I may have gotten to the Army and CIA first, but you did it better than I ever could. First, the 82nd, then Delta, and finally, the Dee-Oh in the CIA. You’re a certified badass, but remember, those bullets didn’t fly without supply.”
Both father and son laughed. They not only shared a bond of blood but one of brotherhood as well. When the mirth subsided, his father’s tone turned clinical again.
“Alright, son, we’ve got as long as we need to catch up, and you’ve had a busy day. Why don’t you call your sister and then get some rest.”
“Yes, your bed is already made up, and the linens are freshly washed,” his mom added warmly.
“Thanks, guys. I love you. I don’t know how long I will stay, but I’ll make the most of it.”
“Don’t worry about it, son.” His dad picked up their empty bottles before getting up and throwing them away. “We’re just happy we get to see you at all. When you call your sister, tell her it’s about time she stops by to visit too.”
“Will do,” Liam said, rising from his seat and returning to the front door. As he left his childhood home, he noticed the moon hanging high in the sky and casting a soft glow over his parent’s farm.
He strode over to his truck and walked around it to search for tampering. It was a habit he had developed long ago during the war in Iran, and he had never wanted to let it die. Seeing nothing unusual, he opened the passenger side door and reached in to fish out his duffel bag. He unzipped it, verified that his pistol was still inside, and then closed it back up. He slung the bag over his shoulder and returned to the house.
When he reached his room, he opened the door and glanced around. It had been perfectly preserved as the day he left. The room was decorated with trophies, souvenirs from his travels, and photos from his time in the army that his mother had framed and put together in a nostalgic collage that chronicled the most important moments of his life. But what caught his eye was a small photo frame placed on his bedside table.
The picture within the frame was of Liam, younger and beaming, his arm around his little sister, Kayla, who was smiling with sparkling eyes full of admiration for her big brother. The memory of the day flooded his mind, and a tender smile graced his lips.
Shaking off the memories, Liam settled at the small desk along the far wall, his duffle bag placed nearby, and fished out his pistol and a cleaning kit. He cleared and then disassembled it with practiced ease, meticulously cleaning each part as he reflected on the bond he shared with his sister. The familiar process settled him after the turbulent day, allowing him to focus and call his sister in the right state of mind.
With the gun maintenance in progress, he took out his phone and dialed his sister’s number. The phone rang a few times before she picked up, her voice bright and cheerful.
“Hey, big bro! It’s been too long,” Kayla said, her excitement evident.
“Yeah, it has,” he replied, warmth filling his voice. “I miss you, sis.”
He wanted to tell her about what was going on with their mom, but he had been expressly warned not to. It felt like a betrayal, but he wanted to respect his mom’s wishes.
“I miss you too,” she said softly. “Are you back from Central America? How’s mom and dad? Do you have a girlfriend yet?”
The stream of rapid-fire questions was typical of his brilliant sister. He began to share stories about his time along the border, his voice carrying the excitement and passion that came with tales of bravery and resilience. He told her about the places he’d been, the locals he’d befriended, and the challenges he’d faced—carefully sanitized of the gory parts. It was all well and good to tell those sorts of details to his boss or his dad. His little sister was another matter entirely.
As they talked, Kayla listened intently, hanging on to every word, and she told him about her new company, the funds they’d been able to raise, and some of the latest technology they expected to bring to market. She was genuinely working on some groundbreaking advancements. With her new AI, she’d cheekily named Apex after her company, she would try and remake the world. She was starting with agriculture but expected Apex to transform the logistics and energy sectors too. They laughed, teased each other, and for a moment, it felt like time had stood still, and they were the inseparable siblings of their childhood once again.
During a lull in the conversation, Liam glanced at the photo frame on his bedside table and felt a moment of melancholy. His sister had been figuring out how to save lives and remake the world for the people that still lived within it. Meanwhile, he had been dealing death and trying to make his small corner of the planet slightly less awful. He was taming the frontier while she was nurturing the home he had left to protect. He realized how much he cherished these moments and how important it was to stay connected, despite the distance and demands of his profession. She reminded him of all the things he had bled for.
As the call ended, Liam reminded Kayla to visit their parents. He tried to hint to her that it was important, but wasn’t sure she caught the subtext. He reassured her that he’d stay safe in the meantime and they’d see each other soon.
Hanging up, Liam finished cleaning his Glock 19, feeling both grateful for the moments shared with his sister and determined to protect those he loved. He wasn’t sure what to do next. The operative only knew that he needed to do something. He had never been someone who allowed life to happen to him. He was in the driver's seat, not a passenger in his own life. His mother’s cancer was just one more obstacle to overcome.
When he laid down to sleep, he faded into unconsciousness almost immediately. It was good to be home.