Part 2
The front door stood wide open, cold night air rushing into the suffocating tension of the hallway. Jackson pushed himself off the wall, his face flushed with a toxic mix of embarrassment and fury. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening. His reality—the one where he was the superior, successful older brother, and I was just the family joke—was collapsing in real-time.
“Hey! You can’t just barge into my house!” Jackson roared, lunging toward the lead operative. He grabbed the man’s tactical vest, trying to shove him back out the door.
It was a fatal miscalculation. The operative didn’t even blink. With a fluid, terrifyingly fast motion, the man grabbed Jackson’s wrist, pivoted, and slammed my brother face-first into the hardwood floor. The operative dropped his knee squarely onto the center of Jackson’s back, pinning him down effortlessly while drawing a suppressed sidearm with his free hand.
Olivia screamed. My parents jumped from the dining table in sheer panic.
“Agent Miller, stand down!” I barked, stepping forward, my Commander voice fully engaging. “Release the civilian. Now.”
Miller immediately holstered his weapon and stepped off my gasping brother, though his eyes never left the perimeter outside the door. “Apologies, Commander. But we don’t have time. You need to evacuate. Now.”
I ignored Jackson, who was coughing and clutching his bruised ribs, and stepped up to Miller. “Report. What do you mean my cover is blown? The syndicate leader was neutralized in Bogota. We dismantled the network.”
“He had a silent partner, Commander,” Miller said, handing me a digital tablet glowing with satellite imagery. “And they didn’t have to hack our servers to find out who you were. The leak came from inside this house.”
I froze. I slowly turned my head to look down at Jackson, who was being helped to his feet by a terrified Olivia. “What did he do?” I asked Miller, my blood running ice cold.
“Your brother has been using your name to secure investments for his failing real estate firm,” Miller explained grimly. “He’s been bragging at country clubs and high-roller tables about having a ‘black ops sister’ who can solve problems. Two weeks ago, he pitched a massive development deal to a shell company. He tried to impress them by showing off classified details about your Bogota deployment.”
I stared at Jackson, my vision narrowing. “How did you get those details, Jackson?”
Jackson wouldn’t look at me. He stared at his expensive shoes, trembling. “I… I looked through your laptop when you came home for Christmas,” he stammered, his voice pathetic and small. “I just took some photos of the screens. I didn’t know what they meant! I just needed these investors to think I had serious government connections. They were going to pull a three-million-dollar contract, Riley!”
“You idiot,” I whispered, the gravity of his stupidity washing over me. “Those investors… they weren’t businessmen, were they?” I asked, turning back to Miller.
Miller shook his head. “They were cartel lieutenants laundering money. The moment Jackson mentioned Bogota and your rank, they pulled the contract. They knew exactly who you were, and Jackson led them right to his own front door.”
“Riley, what is he talking about?” Olivia cried, clutching Jackson’s arm.
Before I could answer, the lights in the entire house violently shut off. Plunged into sudden darkness, the only illumination came from the moonlight filtering through the dining room windows. A split second later, a sharp, metallic zip echoed through the room, followed by the shattering of a vase right next to Jackson’s head. Suppressed sniper fire.
“Get down!” I roared, tackling Jackson and Olivia to the floor as a second bullet tore through the drywall.
Miller and his partner instantly killed the tactical lights on the SUVs outside, plunging the yard into pitch blackness. “Commander, we have multiple bogeys converging on the rear perimeter,” Miller yelled over his radio, unholstering his weapon again. “We are boxed in.”
I felt Jackson shaking uncontrollably beneath me. The arrogant, boastful brother who had spent the last hour mocking my career was now sobbing in the dark, clutching my jacket for dear life.
“Riley,” he choked out, completely terrified. “We’re going to die because of me.”
I reached down to my ankle, pulling the compact 9mm Glock I never traveled without, and racked the slide in the dark. “Nobody dies today, Jackson. Stay on the floor.”
Part 3
“Miller, secure the front approach! Davis, cover the parents in the dining room!” I ordered, moving in a low crouch toward the kitchen.
I didn’t have heavy armor, but I had the layout of my brother’s house memorized, and I had a decade of muscle memory on my side. I slipped into the kitchen just as the back door’s reinforced glass shattered under heavy impact. Two figures clad in dark tactical gear stepped through the frame, their weapons raised.
I didn’t hesitate. I double-tapped the trigger. My first shot hit the lead intruder’s shoulder, spinning him around. As the second man leveled his rifle at me, I closed the distance, kicking the barrel of his gun toward the ceiling just as it fired. The deafening crack echoed off the tile. I drove the butt of my Glock into his temple, sending him crashing into the kitchen island in a heap of shattered plates and silverware.
Outside, the rapid chatter of Miller and Davis’s return fire filled the front yard. Then, the distinct, heavy thud of a police helicopter’s rotors began vibrating the roof above us. The blinding beam of a searchlight swept across the backyard, illuminating the remaining cartel hitmen outside. Realizing they had lost the element of surprise and were vastly outgunned by incoming tactical units, the remaining attackers scattered into the tree line.
“Commander!” Miller yelled from the living room. “Local SWAT is moving in. Perimeter is clear. Threat neutralized.”
I let out a slow, jagged breath, lowering my weapon. I kicked the rifles away from the two unconscious men on my kitchen floor and turned the lights back on.
Ten minutes later, the house was swarming with federal agents and local police. My parents and Olivia were safely escorted to a neighbor’s house, wrapped in shock blankets. Jackson, however, refused to leave. He sat on the back porch steps, his head buried in his hands, trembling uncontrollably as paramedics wheeled the bleeding mercenaries away.
I walked over and sat down next to him on the cold wooden steps. We sat in silence for a long time, watching the flashing red and blue lights paint the neighborhood.
“I lost a man in Bogota,” I finally said, my voice quiet but firm. Jackson flinched, looking up at me with red, tear-stained eyes. “Sergeant Thomas. He took a bullet meant for me while we were extracting a hostage. Command is a heavy burden, Jackson. I don’t sit at a desk. I carry the weight of people’s lives—people’s deaths—every single day. It’s not a joke, and it’s not a shiny badge for you to use to impress your country club friends.”
Jackson broke down. The façade of the cocky, successful businessman shattered completely. “I’m a failure, Riley,” he sobbed, the truth finally spilling out of him. “My company is going bankrupt. I’m drowning in debt. Every time I look at you, I see someone who actually matters. Someone who is strong. I always put you down because I was terrified that if I didn’t, everyone would realize what a complete fraud I am.”
I looked at my older brother. For years, I had hated him for his arrogance. Now, all I felt was pity.
“You almost got our entire family killed tonight because of your ego,” I said, offering zero sympathy. “You violated federal security, and you used my blood for your business deals.”
“I know. I know,” he cried, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll turn myself in. I’ll tell Liv everything. Just… please, Riley. I’m so sorry.”
I stood up, looking down at him. “You’re going to cooperate fully with Agent Miller’s debriefing. You’re going to tell your investors the truth, and you’re going to declare bankruptcy. But above all else, you will never, ever use my name again. And you will respect the uniform.”
Jackson nodded frantically, standing up to face me. For the first time in my entire life, there was no mocking glint in his eye, no sarcastic smirk. There was only pure, unadulterated respect, mixed with a healthy dose of fear.
“Yes, Commander,” he whispered.
I didn’t need him to worship me, and I certainly didn’t need his validation anymore. I had survived a warzone, and tonight, I had survived my family. I turned my back on him and walked toward the black SUV waiting in the driveway. My leave was officially canceled. There was still work to do.
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