Chapter 5 - The Unwelcome Visitor
I killed the Silverado’s headlights, letting the truck coast to a silent stop ten yards behind the black sedan.
“Dad, what’s going on?” Evan asked, his voice tightening with sudden anxiety as he spotted the stranger blocking our home.
“Stay in the truck, Cale. Lock the doors,” I instructed, my voice dropping into that cool, flat register that brooked no argument.
I pushed my door open and stepped out onto the gravel. The autumn air was sharp, smelling of pine resin and woodsmoke from the neighbor’s chimney. The driver’s side door of the black sedan clicked open, and a man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped out. He was in his late forties, with slicked-back silver hair and a thin, calculating smile that didn't reach his eyes.
“Damon Vance?” the man asked, his voice smooth, carrying the polished cadence of a corporate attorney or a high-level fixer.
“You’re parked on private property,” I said, keeping my distance, my eyes scanning his posture, his hands, the way he shifted his weight. No visible weapon, but he was standing too relaxed—the posture of a man who brought muscle with him, even if they were still tucked away out of sight.
“My apologies,” the man said, taking a slow step forward, raising his hands slightly in a placating gesture. “My name is Marcus Vance—no relation, I assure you. I represent the Cedar Falls Development Council.”
My jaw tightened imperceptibly. Vance. The name hadn't surfaced in my life since I cut ties with my corporate-aligned family back on the East Coast fifteen years ago, right before I enlisted.
“You’re a long way from the municipal boardroom, Marcus,” I said coldly. “And this timberland isn't zoned for commercial development.”
Marcus smiled, a thin, predatory expression. “True. But things change, Damon. Especially when certain... assets come to light.” He pulled a thick manila folder from beneath his arm and tapped it against his thigh. “We know who you really are, Chief. We know what unit you commanded before you dropped off the grid nine years ago.”
My pulse didn't spike. My breathing didn't change. But every nerve ending in my body snapped into high alert.
May you like
“Is that right?” I asked softly.
“Oh, absolutely,” Marcus continued, stepping a fraction closer. “And the people I represent are very interested in your unique skill set. We have a little local problem—a complication involving municipal land titles and a stubborn judge who refuses to cooperate.” Marcus held out the folder, letting it catch the moonlight. “Help us clean up our little problem by tomorrow morning, Damon... or the whole world learns that Tier 1 Operator Damon Vance didn't die in the Hindu Kush—he’s just hiding in the woods playing plumber with a stolen kid.”
