My family left no chair for me at my brother’s welcome-home dinner. Dad raised his glass and said, “Some people are born to command.” He never looked at me. To them, I was the daughter who quit military academy and disappeared. So I stayed quiet. Until the next morning, a drill sergeant saw me on my brother’s training base, snapped into a salute, and said one word that made his rifle hit the dirt: “General.”

Then the device added:

“Deadman archive preparing release.”

My blood went cold.

Because that archive only opened if someone inside my own command had marked me dead.

Part 5: The Family Brought Into the Room

They put us in a secure room with no windows, bad coffee, and a camera in the corner.

Noah sat across from me with dried blood on his sleeve. Price stood by the door like a guard dog with rank. Colonel Iris Sloane from Joint Security arrived soon after, sharp-eyed and patient in the way dangerous people are patient.

The field unit sat in a black evidence case between us.

Noah stared at it.