General Marcus Kane grabbed the front of my uniform and slammed me against the steel wall of the military train.
“You should have kept your mouth shut.”
The carriage rattled beneath our boots as the train tore through the darkness. A dozen soldiers stood around us, but no one moved.
I looked Kane straight in the eyes.
“And you should have destroyed the evidence.”
His smile vanished.
For months, Kane had been untouchable.
Decorated general. Respected commander. The kind of man politicians shook hands with while cameras flashed.
But behind closed doors, he had been running an operation that was never supposed to exist.
Illegal shipments.
Missing weapons.
Soldiers sent on missions that appeared nowhere in official records.
And I had found the files proving it.
Kane drove his forearm into my ribs.
Once.
Twice.
Pain exploded through my side.
I folded forward, struggling to breathe.
Then he grabbed my uniform and dragged me toward the open cargo door.
Cold night air roared into the carriage.
One young lieutenant stepped forward.
“Sir, stop!”
Kane shoved him back.
Nobody else moved.
Maybe they were afraid of him.
Maybe some of them already knew exactly what he was trying to hide.
Kane turned back to me.
“Last chance. Where is the drive?”
Blood filled my mouth.
But I smiled.
“Already delivered.”
For the first time that night, I saw fear in his eyes.
It lasted less than a second.
Then he threw me from the train.
I hit the ground hard.
The world became dirt, steel, darkness, and pain.
I heard the wheels screaming past me.
Then silence.
Back inside the train, Kane looked at his officers.
“Now we can finish this.”
He thought the problem had been solved.
He thought the evidence would disappear with me.
He was wrong about both.
Twenty minutes later, I opened my eyes beside the tracks.
Every breath felt like broken glass.
My uniform was torn.
My hands were bleeding.
And somewhere ahead of me, the train carrying Kane—and everything he needed to complete his operation—was slowing as it approached the mountain checkpoint.
I had two choices.
Disappear and survive.
Or go back.
I started running.
By the time the train reached the checkpoint, I was close enough to grab the ladder beneath the final cargo car.
My fingers wrapped around cold steel.
The train began accelerating again.
I pulled myself up.
One rung.
Then another.
Kane believed he had killed the only man who could expose him.
He had no idea that man was already back on his train.
And this time, I wasn’t there to escape.
I was there to find out who else was involved—and make sure the evidence reached people Kane couldn’t silence.
