Chapter 3 - The Man Who Sold My Team
“Get everyone inside!” security shouted.
People ran.
Chairs overturned.
Glasses shattered.
The engagement party disappeared into panic.
I stayed behind the SUV.
Mercer crouched beside me.
Marcus was breathing hard.
“You knew,” I said.
“No.”
“You knew something.”
His silence answered.
I grabbed his collar.
“My people died.”
“I wasn't involved.”
“Then talk.”
He looked toward the estate.
“My father.”
Chloe had followed us despite security trying to stop her.
“What about your father?”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Chloe, go inside.”
“No.”
“Please.”
It was the first time I had heard him speak gently to her.
That frightened me more than his arrogance.
“What did your father do?” I asked.
Marcus swallowed.
“Thorne Strategic supplied equipment to government operations.”
“Black Ridge?”
“I don't know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I swear.”
Mercer crouched closer.
“Project 7319.”
Marcus looked at him.
“My father has a restricted accounting system. Projects aren't listed by names. They're numbers.”
“7319?”
“Yes.”
“What did it pay for?”
“I don't know.”
I studied him.
He was scared.
But I believed that part.
Marcus knew enough to be dangerous.
Not enough to understand why.
“Take us to the records.”
He shook his head.
“You don't understand my father.”
“No. You don't understand me.”
For once, Marcus didn't have a clever response.
We moved inside through a service entrance.
Security locked down the estate.
My mother tried to reach me.
I told her to stay with Dad.
Chloe refused.
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
“Marcus is my fiancé.”
“That is exactly why you shouldn't.”
She stared at him.
Something in his expression changed her mind.
Not because she trusted me.
Because she suddenly didn't trust him.
Marcus led Mercer and me through a private hallway to his father's office.
Richard Thorne was supposedly in London.
The office door required a fingerprint.
Marcus opened it.
Inside were dark shelves, framed photographs, and a large desk.
I didn't care about any of it.
“Computer.”
Marcus pointed.
Mercer locked the door behind us.
Marcus entered a password.
A corporate system opened.
“Search 7319.”
He did.
Nothing.
“Try archived projects.”
He hesitated.
Then opened another directory.
7319 appeared.
My heart accelerated.
Marcus clicked.
PASSWORD REQUIRED.
“What password?”
“I don't know.”
Mercer leaned toward the screen.
“Try Black Ridge.”
Marcus did.
ACCESS DENIED.
I noticed a framed photograph on the desk.
Richard Thorne shaking hands with a military officer.
I recognized the officer.
General Warren Hale.
The man who authorized Black Ridge.
I picked up the photograph.
“When was this taken?”
Marcus looked.
“No idea.”
Mercer did.
“Three weeks before Black Ridge.”
I turned toward him.
“How do you know?”
“I was there.”
Silence.
Mercer sat down.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Now would be an excellent time.”
“Black Ridge wasn't supposed to be a combat operation.”
I knew that.
Officially, we had been sent to retrieve intelligence from an abandoned facility.
Instead, we walked into an ambush.
Mercer continued.
“Someone altered your team's coordinates.”
I stared at him.
“How do you know?”
“Elias told me.”
My chest tightened.
“He was conscious?”
“For twenty-three minutes.”
“What else did he say?”
Mercer looked ashamed.
“He said the ambush was American.”
I didn't understand.
“American weapons?”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“American money.”
Marcus stared at the floor.
I turned toward him.
“What does Thorne Strategic do?”
He didn't answer.
“Marcus.”
“Transportation.”
“Of what?”
“Equipment.”
“What equipment?”
“Whatever the contracts require.”
I slammed the photograph onto the desk.
“My team walked into an ambush financed through your father's company?”
“I don't know!”
Chloe's voice came from behind us.
“But I do.”
We turned.
She stood in the doorway.
Marcus went pale.
“Chloe?”
She was holding his phone.
“You left this outside.”
She raised it.
“There are messages from your father.”
Marcus moved toward her.
She backed away.
“Don't.”
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Chloe.”
Her hands trembled.
“I searched 7319.”
My sister looked at me.
“There are hundreds of messages.”
I took the phone.
Most were encrypted.
One wasn't.
RICHARD THORNE:
If Vale ever appears, notify me immediately.
Dated eight months earlier.
Another:
MARCUS:
Why would she appear?
RICHARD:
Because bodies have a habit of coming home.
I looked at Marcus.
“You knew my name.”
“No.”
“You knew.”
“Not who you were.”
“Explain.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“My father asked about Chloe's family before we got engaged.”
Chloe stared at him.
“You told me he was being protective.”
“I thought he was.”
“Why did he ask about Zariah?”
“I don't know.”
Another message.
Richard to Marcus.
KEEP CHLOE CLOSE. IF HER SISTER CONTACTS HER, I WANT TO KNOW.
Chloe stopped breathing.
“You didn't fall in love with me.”
Marcus looked horrified.
“No. Chloe, that's not—”
“You were watching me.”
“Initially.”
The word destroyed whatever remained between them.
“Initially?”
He reached for her.
She slapped him.
Hard.
“Don't touch me.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice.
“Commander Vale.”
“Who is this?”
“You should leave the Thornes alone.”
“Why?”
“Because Black Ridge was buried for a reason.”
I looked at Mercer.
“Who are you?”
The man chuckled.
“You met me once.”
“When?”
“Before your team died.”
The line disconnected.
Mercer looked at me.
“Voice familiar?”
“No.”
Marcus was staring at the computer.
Something had changed.
The password screen disappeared.
The system had unlocked remotely.
One folder opened.
PROJECT 7319.
Inside were financial transfers.
Weapons shipments.
Coordinates.
Names.
And one video.
I clicked it.
Security footage appeared.
Black Ridge.
Hours before our team arrived.
Three men stood beside military crates.
Richard Thorne.
General Warren Hale.
And someone else.
Mercer stepped toward the screen.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You know him?”
Mercer's face lost all color.
The third man turned toward the camera.
I knew him too.
He had attended my military academy graduation.
He had hugged me after my first deployment.
May you like
He had told me he was proud of me.
My father.
