At the academy graduation, my father scoffed under his breath, “Useless. She’ll quit like she always does.” I stood perfectly still at attention. Then Drill Sergeant Frey halted the ceremony, turned toward me, and raised his hand in a sharp salute. “Major,” he said, voice carrying across the field. “On extended assignment.” My father’s face drained of color.

Then I saved it. That was the part I hated about myself.

I saved every scrap proving they were still alive, even if they were alive without me.

The invitation to Caleb’s academy graduation came through Mom. It would mean a lot if you came.

I almost deleted it. Then Sloan called me in.

“You’re cleared for domestic leave,” she said. “Seventy-two hours. Attend as civilian family. No uniform. No operational disclosure.”

“Why the restrictions?” “There may be people present who know enough,” Sloan said. “And people who know too much.”

She slid a small envelope across the desk. Inside was a visitor credential, an emergency card, and a folded sheet with three names.

One I recognized. Drill Sergeant Marcus Vale.