Page 39 of The Soldier

I’d heard a rumor that Adams had been invited to join and declined. I call bullshit on that. He probably applied like me and couldn’t handle the rejection.

That’s likely why he left.

Weak-ass motherfucker.

I think the day I really began to hate him was when I was in the gym to use the bench press after he’d finished. He’d gotten bigger than I remembered last time we were stationed together. In the chest and arms.

Focused on that, I forgot to change the weights.

A moment I won’t forget.

I lifted that bar—just—and that’s when I realized I’d fucked up. My arms stiffened and felt like they were going to snap. Aweird sound escaped me and both Adams and another guy came running over.

“Dude. Fuck. You press this much normally?” Guy Two asked, laughing awkwardly.

“He didn’t change the weights,” Marshall added, towering over me as they both took the bar and replaced it.

I wanted to tell him to fuck right off. That I could bench what he did. But clearly...yeah no.

“Be careful next time, Sergeant Miller. Don’t be a hero, okay.” Then he slapped me on the shoulder and walked off.

Cunt.

A few guys around me chuckled, but carried on with their workout

Fury rolled through me as I felt my face burn red.Don’t be a hero.The fuck. I was just distracted. Glaring at the weights, I took in the numbers and promised myself in six months I’d be lifting that.

I did.

And no one gave a flying fuck.

“Looks like I’m the hero now, Adams.” I pointed out one day as I pressed the bar up, shooting him a grin.

“What?” He slowed as he walked past, looking confused.

“Three hundred fifty pounds baby. What are you lifting now?”

“Dunno dude,” he mumbled and walked off.

Like he couldn’t give a shit.

All my damn hard work every day, and he just walked off like the asshole he is.

I turn the page of my book with more force than necessary as the memories flood back. It’s not worth dwelling on. We have another hour or two before the briefing and I need to just relax.

I don’t.

My mind returns to the prick. Marshall looks good for someone who’s done fuck all for the past year. Let’s face it, private security is for those who can’t handle it in the forces. We all know that.

I’m a few years younger than him and clearly far more vital.

Still, I’m curious about why he’s here doing a mission andwhyit hasn’t been allocated to an active team.

It’s fucking bullshit.

If he thinks I’m going to be his bitch because he’s working for Aidan Hawke and Josh Black—former Marine and Navy SEAL—he’s got to be damn joking.

“Hey,” I call out to Johnson, who’s cleaning his weapon. He looks up. “Adams say anything to you out there?”

---