The house on Mega Street was too quiet now. No laughter from the kitchen. No football games in the backyard. Just silence, thick and heavy, pressing down on the two boys who had nowhere else to go. Kael, fifteen, sat on his bed staring at nothing. His mind was stuck on the telegram. The one that arrived a month ago. The Department of the Army regrets to inform you... He could still see his father's face. Not the stiff photograph on the mantel. The real one. The one who laughed too loud, burned pancakes on Sundays, and taught them how to throw a punch. All of it gone. Taken by a war in a country they'd never visit. The door creaked. Dorian walked in, his face the same as Kael's but softer, more open. They were twins. Three minutes apart. Different in almost every way except the grief that now lived in both of them. Dorian sat down next to him. Their shoulders touched. Neither spoke. "She was crying again," Dorian finally said, his voice low. "In the kitchen." Kael nodded. T

The box sat on Kael's kitchen table for three days before he opened it.His apartment was small. Bare. The kind of place a soldier kept when he was never home long enough to care about decorating. A couch. A TV. A bed in the other room. That was it.He'd been discharged from the hospital two days ago. The doctors had wanted him to stay longer. More physical therapy. More observation. But he'd signed himself out against medical advice. He had work to do.His leg still ached. The crutches were gone, replaced by a cane. He limped around the apartment, ignoring the pain. Pain was temporary. Revenge was forever.The box was dusty. Aunt Claire hadn't taken care of it. That didn't surprise him. She'd never cared about anything except Marcus. The box was just a relic. Something to store in her basement and forget about.Kael opened it slowly.Inside were his mother's things. Old photographs. A few pieces of jewelry. A locket with a picture of his father. A letter, yellowed with age, written i

The training facility was hidden in the middle of nowhere.Kael had been driven there in an unmarked van. No windows. No landmarks. Just hours of winding roads and silence. When the doors finally opened, he was standing in front of a compound that looked more like a prison than a military base.Old walls. Barbed wire. Guard towers. The kind of place that made you feel small the moment you stepped inside.Kael limped through the gates. His leg was better now. Not perfect. But better. The doctors had cleared him for light duty. He'd pushed for full clearance. They'd compromised.It would have to be enough."Vance!" A sergeant barked from across the courtyard. "Get your ass over here!"Kael moved as fast as he could. The sergeant was a wall of muscle with a shaved head and dead eyes. He looked like he'd never smiled in his life."You're late," the sergeant said."The transport—""I don't care about excuses. I care about results. You're here to become something more than a grunt. You're h