Five hundred and forty-five days.

It’s to the point where I don’t even give a shit about anything anymore. I think a lot of us are getting that way. We’re getting more careless, more daring, and less cautious.

Sweat runs down the sides of my face as we get ready to arrest another scumbag. He’s been planting IEDs on the sides of the roads. We want to know who’s supplying them.

I’m at the front of the line ready to bust down this door. The five of us are lined up front to back, knowing exactly what we need to do to clear the room, find our target, and hopefully bring him in alive. On the count of three, the door gets busted down. I stride into the room first, keeping low with my weapon drawn and ready to fire. I’m about to take a right to clear this side of the room, when I see it. By the time my mind registers what’s happening, it’s too late.

A crushing pain hits me in the chest right before I see the flash from the muzzle. The force of the three rounds knocks me back a little, but I’m able to squeeze off a few shots before I collapse to the side. I make sure I’m not blocking the doorway so he doesn’t pick us all off one by one. Breathing instantly becomes difficult. Even with my vest on, it feels like I’ve been hit in the chest with a hammer by fucking Thor.

After a few bullets echo through the room, I hear “All clear!” I glance over long enough to see a couch lined up perpendicular to the door, the dead asshole lying motionless behind it. He was tipped off and waiting for us to bust in here.

With every ounce of energy within me, I try to sit up, but can’t. My Kevlar helmet feels like it weighs a hundred pounds and my head falls back unable to hold it up anymore. I fight to keep my eyes open, knowing that I need to stay awake. My guys are trying to talk to me, but they seem so far away as my eyes slowly drift shut.

Just another day in hell.

But then I hear it. The voice of an angel. “Alex, can you hear me?”

Alex? Who’s Alex? My mind is telling my eyes to open, to look at the one who’s here to save me, but they don’t listen.

“Wake up!”

My eyes open and I see Elizabeth sitting over me, eyebrows creased with worry. My heart is beating a mile a minute and my breathing is accelerated. Sweat runs down my temples just like in my dream—well, flashback. I take a few deep breaths and clear my mind of the images, of the feelings I had to relive.

“Are you okay?” she asks hesitantly. “You were groaning a lot and your face was twisted up like you were in pain. I’ve been trying to wake you for a couple minutes.”

My hand rubs down my face before I sit up in bed. Backing up against the headboard, I try to hide my embarrassment. No one has seen me like this. Well, those assholes did when they first took me, but no one I care about. The instant fear that I’m over there again, the sweating, the heavy breathing, the shaking, the relief I’m not there, then the guilt that some of my brothers never came home are all bottled up inside. I’ve always dealt with it on my own and hid my problems from everyone.

“Sorry about that.” I’m still edgy, feeling the effects from my nightmare.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I can’t even meet her eyes for fear of what I’ll see. “No,” is all I say.

“Are you sure?” she persists.

I look up at her. “I said I don’t want to talk about it,” I grit out at her. She’s momentarily taken back by my tone, but then I see the hurt written all over her face. Knowing how Cal treated and kept things from her has me wanting to kick my own ass. “I’m sorry. It’s just not something I talk about a lot, but I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, but I know it’s not. She’s visibly upset and I’d do anything to keep from making her feel that way. Even if it means opening up to her and exposing my vulnerabilities.

“No, it’s not.” I take in a deep breath and blow it out slowly, preparing myself to discuss things that only my brothers on the battlefield know about. Holding my arm out to her, I say, “Come here and let me hold you.” Really, she’s holding me, making me whole when I thought I’d never have someone like her in my life. She comes over and snuggles up to my side without hesitation.

“No one knows that I have these dreams—these nightmares. I used to have them at least a few times a week after my very last deployment. It’s like everything I’d done and seen was finally catching up with my psyche or something. Over time, they happened less and less until they stopped for the most part. But lately, I’ve been having them more frequently again. I’m thinking it’s the stress of everything going on that’s bringing it to the surface.”

She’s quiet for a moment, I guess soaking the information in, but her silence starts to make me nervous. Does she think I’m crazy or need help or something?

“Do you want to tell me what you dream about?” She starts drawing small circles on my chest, and I find the small gesture comforting. It’s like she knows exactly what I need.

“Trust me, there’s some things no one wants to know. Things I wish I hadn’t seen.” She doesn’t respond, but keeps running her finger gently over my chest. “I was shot once in the chest. I’ll never forget the flash from the muzzle and how much it hurt. I used to dream about that a lot. I’d see the flash and startle awake. Tonight it wasn’t just the flash, it was the whole goddamn thing. In the back of my mind I knew what was going to happen, but I was powerless to stop it. So all I could do was sit there and watch the actions play out knowing how it would end.” A huff of air rushes past my lips.

“Did you ever see anyone about this? Have you been diagnosed with PTSD?” There’s no judgment in her tone, just concern.

“No, it’s always been manageable. I’ve just always dealt with it. Like I said, you’re the first person I’ve told. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy or that I’m going to fly off the deep end one day,” I say with humor in my voice, but I’m serious. I would forever regret this moment if she looked at me differently or thought she had to treat me like I was fragile.

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re brave, strong, and I admire you on so many different levels. There’s nothing you could say that would make me change the way I feel about you, Alex. I love you.”

My heart swells with my feelings for her. She really is perfect for me. “I love you too.” I kiss the top of her head and go back to sleep with her lying on my chest. Her silent comfort chasing my demons away.

THE NEXT MORNING I step outside to make a call to Turner on the phone he gave me.

“Turner,” he answers on the second ring.

“It’s Matthews. We made it in last night.”

“Good.”

“Any new updates?” You would think a bunch of amateurs are working at the bureau with as long as this is taking. I mean shit, how many dots could there possibly be to connect all of this?

“We’re getting close. Now it’s just a matter of dotting I’s and crossing T’s.”

“What’s the connection? How does Cal tie in to the cartel?”

“We’re still searching for the motive, but we’re pretty sure the head of it is Henry Williams.”

“Yeah, I remember you telling me that name before. How do you know he’s the leader?”

“All the money got traced back to him. It was laundered pretty damn good, but we finally pinpointed it to his company. We found out the plane you flew on is owned by him as well. He owns a large shipping company. One of the largest in the world actually. We’re just trying to figure out how each party benefits from the other to see if we can bring the whole organization down. The DEA is involved in this now too, so that slows progress slightly. But hang in there, it should be over really soon.”