The Montana winter sun barely crept over the Rockies when Victor Ramsay guided his pickup into the gravel driveway of Milwood Creek High School. Twenty years as an Army Ranger had taught him to appreciate silence—the kind that came before dawn, before the world woke with its demands and complications. He’d returned to this small town three years ago after his discharge, hoping it would give his fifteen-year-old son Drew something Victor never had growing up on military bases: stability.
Sarah had died when Drew was seven.
Cancer that spread faster than any enemy Victor had faced overseas. Since then, it had been just the two of them, navigating life with the careful balance of a father who’d seen too much trying to raise a boy who’d lost too soon.
“Morning,” Drew said, climbing into the passenger seat. His voice carried that careful neutrality teenagers perfected when something was wrong.
Victor studied his son’s face in the dim light.
A fading bruise colored his left cheekbone, and the way Drew moved—careful, guarded—told Victor more than words could. They’d had this conversation before. Victor knew his son was lying about how he got the bruises, but he also knew Drew needed to feel capable of handling his own problems.
The Rangers had taught Victor when to strike and when to wait.
As they approached the school, Victor noticed a cluster of students near the entrance. At the center stood Neil Gaines—seventeen, built like a linebacker, with his father’s cold eyes and sense of entitlement.
The sheriff’s son. Three other boys flanked him, laughing at something on Neil’s phone.
Drew tensed beside him.
“Just drop me at the corner, Dad.”
“I’m taking you to the door.”
Victor pulled up to the curb. Neil’s group turned, and Victor saw something flash across the bully’s face—calculation mixed with contempt. The boy had his father’s swagger, that particular brand of arrogance that came from growing up untouchable.
Drew grabbed his bag and moved quickly toward the entrance, head down.
Neil said something Victor couldn’t hear, and his friends erupted in laughter. Drew’s shoulders tightened, but he kept walking.
Victor memorized every face in that group. In Helmand Province, he’d spent weeks observing enemy patterns before making a move.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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