The Untouchable Commander

Chapter 0NE

~D.K HOSPITAL~.

Kael stared at the ceiling. His leg was suspended in a complicated web of wires and pulleys, the cast heavy and immobile. The doctors had said he was lucky. The accident during training could have crushed his spine. Instead, he'd only shattered his femur. Six weeks of recovery. Then physical therapy. Then back to active duty.

Lucky. He didn't feel lucky.

He was supposed to be on that mission. Mount Thai. North face. The most dangerous climb of their careers. He and Dorian had trained for it together. Spent months preparing. They were supposed to be a team. Brothers watching each other's backs.

Then the training accident happened. A faulty vehicle. A rollover. Kael had been thrown clear, but his leg had taken the worst of it. The doctors said he'd recover. But he wouldn't be climbing any mountains for a while.

So Dorian went without him.

Kael had argued. Begged. Tried to convince the CO to delay the mission. But the timeline was fixed. The intel was time-sensitive. They couldn't wait.

"Your brother is one of our best," the CO had said. "He'll be fine. You focus on getting better."

So Kael lay in his hospital bed, watching the clock, waiting for news. His brother was out there. Climbing. Conquering. Doing what they'd both trained to do.

He'd be fine. He had to be fine.

The door opened. A nurse came in to check his vitals. She smiled at him. The same smile she'd given him every day for the past two weeks.

"Any news yet?" Kael asked. His voice was eager. Hopeful. "From the mission?"

The nurse shook her head. "Not yet. But I'm sure they'll update you as soon as they can."

Kael nodded. He looked at his phone. Still no messages. No calls. He'd texted Dorian before the climb. Good luck. Come back in one piece.

No reply yet. But that was normal. No signal on the mountain.

He settled back against his pillows. His leg throbbed. The pain meds were wearing off. But he didn't call for more. He wanted to be sharp. Alert. Ready to hear the good news when it came.

Dorian would succeed. He always did. He was careful. Methodical. The kind of soldier who checked his gear three times before any climb. He wouldn't make mistakes.

He'll come back. He'll have stories. He'll laugh about how easy it was.

Kael smiled at the thought. His brother's laugh. That easy, carefree sound that made everything feel okay. He'd hear it soon. He knew it.

Two hours later, his phone buzzed.

Kael snatched it up. His heart raced. This was it. The news he'd been waiting for.

Call me. Urgent.

It wasn't Dorian. It was his commanding officer. The message was brief. Cold.

Something icy settled in Kael's stomach. He dialed, his thumb trembling.

"Vance." The CO's voice was tight. Controlled. The voice of a man who had delivered bad news before.

"What happened?" Kael asked. "Did they make it? Is Dorian okay?"

The silence on the other end stretched too long.

"Kael... I'm sorry. There was an accident. Your brother's rope... it came loose. He fell."

Kael's grip on the phone tightened. His knuckles went white. "What do you mean, came loose? Dorian doesn't make mistakes like that. He checks his gear—"

"I know, son. I know. But the fall was over three hundred feet. The retrieval team... they collected what they could. But there wasn't enough to... he didn't survive."

The words hit like bullets. One after another. Each one punching a hole through his chest.

"That's not possible," Kael said. His voice came out strange. Distant. "I was supposed to be there. I should have been there. He was going to be fine. He promised he'd be fine."

"I know this is hard—"

"Hard?" Kael's voice cracked. "Hard? He was my brother. My twin. He was supposed to come back. We were supposed to—" He stopped. His throat closed up. The tears were coming. He couldn't stop them.

"The body," he finally managed. "Where is his body?"

The CO was quiet for a moment. "The fall... the rocks at the base. The retrieval team said there wasn't much to collect. They're working on identification. But it's... it's going to take time."

Kael's mind went blank. Not much to collect. His brother. His twin. Reduced to pieces at the bottom of a mountain.

"He wouldn't have fallen," Kael said. His voice was shaking. "He was too careful. He checked everything. I watched him pack. I watched him inspect that rope. It was new. It was fine."

"Accidents happen, son. Equipment fails. Weather conditions. It—"

"No." Kael's voice hardened. "Dorian didn't fail. Something else happened. Someone—"

"Kael, you're in shock. You need to rest—"

"Don't tell me to rest!" His scream echoed off the hospital walls. A nurse looked in through the window, her face worried. He didn't care. "My brother is dead. You're telling me he fell because of a rope. But I'm telling you he wouldn't have let that happen. He wouldn't."

The CO was quiet for a long moment. Then, softer: "We'll launch an investigation. But for now, you need to focus on your recovery. Your brother wouldn't want you to—"

Kael ended the call.

He threw the phone against the wall. It shattered. Plastic and glass scattered across the floor. He didn't care.

The tears came then. Hard and fast. Guttural sobs that tore from his throat and filled the empty room. He hadn't cried like this since his mother died. Hadn't let himself. But this was different. This was his brother. The other half of his soul.

Dorian was gone. And he hadn't been there to save him.

The doctors came. The nurses. They sedated him. He welcomed the darkness.

When he woke up, his phone was replaced. A cheap burner. His CO must have sent someone.

There was a message on it. Unknown number. No name.

Your brother didn't fall. His rope was cut. You're next.

Kael read it three times. His hands were steady now. His mind clear.

Someone had killed his brother. Someone had planned it. Executed it. And now they were coming for him.

He thought about the message. The threat. His brother's death wasn't an accident. It was murder.

And Kael was going to find out who.

""" """"

The funeral was a small one. Too small.

Kael sat in the front row of the chapel, his leg still in a cast, his crutches beside him. The military had sent a representative. A chaplain said a few words. The coffin was draped in a flag. There wasn't much inside. The chaplain had told him that privately. A few remains. Nothing recognizable. Dorian was gone. Just gone.

But where was everyone?

Dorian had friends. Fellow soldiers. People who loved him. But the chapel was almost empty. A few officers sat in the back, their faces blank. Professional. They were there because they had to be, not because they wanted to be.

Kael looked around. His eyes searched the rows. The door.

Beatrice wasn't there.

Dorian's fiancée. The woman he was going to marry. The woman he'd talked about constantly. The woman he'd said made him want to quit the military and settle down.

Settle down with Beatrice. A house. A normal life. Kids maybe.

Now she wasn't even at his funeral.

Kael's jaw tightened. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. The same way he'd felt it when he knew something was off about the mission. The same way he'd felt it when the CO told him Dorian had fallen.

He'd deal with that later. For now, he had to get through this. Had to say goodbye.

The service ended. The chaplain handed him the folded flag. Kael held it against his chest. It was heavy. Heavy with everything he'd lost.

He limped out of the chapel on his crutches. The sun was too bright. The world was still turning. It felt wrong. The world should have stopped when Dorian died.

But it hadn't. And Kael was going to find out why.

Aunt Claire's house looked the same as it had ten years ago.

Same peeling paint. Same overgrown lawn. Same cold, unwelcoming feel. Kael stood at the front door, his crutches under his arms, his leg throbbing. He didn't want to be here. But he needed the box. The one with his mother's belongings. The one Aunt Claire had kept after they'd moved out. He and Dorian had decided years ago to split the contents. But Dorian's half was still here. Kael needed to take it. Needed to have something of his brother's. Something his mother had touched.

He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Still nothing.

The door was unlocked. He pushed it open.

The house smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap perfume. He limped inside, his crutches echoing on the worn floorboards. The living room was a mess. Empty bottles. Takeout containers. The kind of clutter that came from not caring.

Then he heard the voices.

Laughter. Drunk and careless. The kind of laughter that made his skin crawl.

He followed the sound to the kitchen. Pushed the door open.

And froze.

Beatrice was there. Sitting on the counter, her legs crossed, a glass of wine in her hand. Her hair was done. Her makeup perfect. She was wearing a dress that cost more than Aunt Claire's monthly rent.

Marcus was there too. Aunt Claire's son. The golden child. He stood between Beatrice's legs, his hands on her waist, his mouth on her neck. They were laughing. Touching. Celebrating.

Beatrice looked up. Her eyes met Kael's.

The laughter died.

"Kael," she said. Her voice was flat. Guilty. "What are you doing here?"

Kael stared at them. His brother's fiancée. His cousin. In each other's arms. The day of the funeral. The day his brother's body was still being pieced together at the bottom of a mountain.

"Beatrice," Kael said. His voice was calm. Too calm. "You weren't at the funeral."

She slid off the counter. Adjusted her dress. Marcus stepped back, his face red. He couldn't meet Kael's eyes.

"I... I couldn't. It was too hard." Beatrice's voice was shaky. False. "I couldn't bear to see him like that."

"But you can bear this." Kael gestured at them. At the kitchen. At the wine and the laughter. "You can celebrate. In my aunt's house. With my cousin. On the day my brother is being buried."

Marcus found his voice. "Look, man, it's not what you think—"

"Don't." Kael's voice cut like a blade. "Don't say another word."

He turned to Beatrice. Her eyes were wet now. The tears of someone who was caught, not someone who was grieving.

"Did you love him?" Kael asked. "Did you ever love him?"

Beatrice opened her mouth. Closed it. The silence was all the answer he needed.

"Aunt Claire," Kael said, his voice cold. "Where is she?"

"She's... she's out," Marcus mumbled. "She'll be back later."

Kael nodded. He looked around the kitchen. The box of his mother's belongings was in the corner. He limped over, picked it up. It was lighter than he remembered. Lighter than it should have been.

He turned back to them. His eyes were dry now. Hard.

"I came for this," he said, holding up the box. "I didn't come for you. I didn't come for any of this."

He limped toward the door. Beatrice called after him. "Kael, wait. Please. It's not—"

"You're engaged to my brother," Kael said, not turning around. "He's dead. And you're here. With him. On the day of his funeral."

He stopped at the door. Looked back at them.

"I don't know what happened on that mountain. But I'm going to find out. And when I do, if I find out either of you had anything to do with it..." He let the threat hang in the air. "Stay away from me. Stay away from my brother's memory."

He limped out the door. The box under his arm. His leg screaming in pain. His heart shattered into pieces.

Someone had killed his brother. Someone had cut that rope. And now Beatrice and Marcus were together. Laughing. Planning their future.

Kael didn't believe in coincidences.

He was going to find the truth. And when he did, he was going to make them all pay.