Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Yard
"Wait a minute, Ethan," Dad said, his face flushing a mottled red as he stepped squarely into Ethan’s path. "That’s no way to speak to my son in his own home. And Claire has duties to attend to—she’s helping manage the catering logistics tonight."
Ethan didn't raise his voice. He didn't even push my father aside. He simply looked at Arthur Whitaker with a gaze so utterly devoid of fear or respect that my father involuntarily took half a step back.
"Arthur," Ethan said quietly, "if you value the security clearance hanging on your study wall, and if you want this backyard to remain a celebration instead of a crime scene, you will let her walk with me."
The backyard went completely dead silent. The string quartet seemed to falter.
Mom’s face lost all its color, her carefully constructed facade cracking down the middle. She looked at Ethan, then at me, as if seeing me for the first time through a completely different lens. Not as Claire helps out. Not as background noise. But as something dangerous.
"Go, Claire," Mom whispered, her voice trembling.
I didn't need to be told twice. I turned and walked past the manicured hedges toward the shadowed perimeter of the garden, the cool night air hitting my flushed skin. Ethan fell into step right beside me, his long strides eating up the distance until we reached the quiet, unlit corner near the old oak tree.
"Where did you get that mark, Whitaker?" Ethan asked immediately, his voice dropping to a harsh, controlled whisper once we were out of earshot of the crowd.
I pulled my sleeve down, smoothing the fabric over my wrist. "It's none of your business, Colonel."
"It's every bit my business," Ethan snapped, stepping closer, blocking my path against the rough bark of the tree. "That isn't a tattoo you get at a parlor in Georgetown. That’s a Tier-One designation mark. The kind issued to black-ops assets operating out of the Black Site in Kandahar five years ago."
My breath caught in my throat. I stared up at him, the dark past I had buried under three jobs, cheap aprons, and family humiliation suddenly rising up to choke me.
"You were there," I whispered.
May you like
Ethan’s jaw tightened. "I commanded the extraction team that lost contact with Sector Four in 2021. Everyone on the manifest was listed as KIA. So explain to me, Claire... how is a ghost standing in my former commanding officer’s backyard pouring champagne?"
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