Page 4 of Blade and Arrow Origins

Could we?

Maybe.

A smile touching my lips, I reply to Leo.

It’s not the same. But I might have an idea. I have to do some research, but if it’s solid, I’ll let you know.

Leo’s text comes in right away.

Definitely. You know I’m with you.

The weight on my shoulders lifts. Hope blooms in my chest.

Maybe there’s another way.

And I open the browser on my phone, not to look at flights, but real estate.

Maybe I can bring my team together again.

CHAPTER 2

LEO

I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the city.

It’s not that I haven’t spent time in cities before, but actually living in one? Taking the subway from my apartment in Queens each day, surrounded by thousands of people I’ve never met? Living in a tiny studio that seems to get smaller by the day? The constant buzz of activity never allowing for a moment of peace?

I don’t know if it’s for me.

When I got the job offer to work for a cybersecurity firm in Manhattan, it seemed like a great opportunity. Good pay, benefits, four weeks vacation, moving expenses covered, and I’d get to do something I’m good at.

Back in the Army, I didn’t really use my skills as a hacker—they weren’t necessary when we were in the Middle East, working clandestine ops and training foreign allies—but I always made sure to keep them up to date. During my off-time, I scoured message boards for new techniques and programs and strategies, practiced breaking into secure systems without getting caught, and made sure to keep my certifications current.

Up until that last mission, I hadn’t planned to leave the service until I retired. I thought I’d stay with my Green Beret team for another five years at least, then transition into some sort of training role. Or I’d shift into the intelligence side of things. But I always imagined growing old in the Army, alongside my team, all of us retiring together.

Of course, I knew things could always go wrong. I just hoped they wouldn’t.

But when everything fell apart, including my team, I was desperate for something to distract me from the guilt and devastation and anger.

I thought this move might help.

I thought the city that never sleeps would drown out the terrible memories.

I thought this job as a white-hat hacker, or ethical hacker, as my company calls it, would keep my mind busy.

But it hasn’t. I still miss my team. I worry about them all the time. And while I’ve made some new friends here, it’s not the same.

My job doesn’t bring the same satisfaction as it did when I was in the Army. It doesn’t account for the hours I spend alone in my apartment, wondering how things went so wrong and wishing I could go back and fix them.

I don’t like getting on the subway and seeing people shy away from me, assuming that just because I’m big, I must be a threat.

And I long for the stars. As a kid growing up in Vermont, I used to love trying to count them. I enjoyed sitting with my dad on the porch, looking up at the sky and picking out all the constellations.

Even when I was overseas, I still had the stars to remind me of home. Of the people I loved. Of the reason I was out there to begin with.

Now, when I look to the sky, the stars are masked by the light from the city.

I was talking to Nora about it the other day, and she asked why I didn’t move. Head back to Vermont or upstate or go out west to live near Finn in Colorado.

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