Page 23 of Iron Heart

Kingsley

It’s been an intense week since we returned from Sardinia.Not only did I watch her sleep all night, feeling a peace I’d never known, but we were off again as soon as we got back to New York.

A frantic phone call alerted us that Isabella’s son, Fox, had gone missing, kidnapped by his abusive father.We flew to Maine to bring him back.

Eventful is too mild a word for it.But Miss Slater handles it all like a seasoned pro, which makes me wonder.

How much did her own kidnapping screw her up?And how much is she relying on Valium to get through each day?How much is she tucking away, compartmentalizing just to keep moving forward?

She’s strong, no doubt about it, but even the strongest have their breaking points.

I should know.I thought I was unbreakable once.

My mind takes me back to that fateful day…

“Western front’s all clear,” comes Carter’s voice over the radio.

He’s my best friend, a brother-in-arms, someone I’ve served with in Special Forces since graduating.

We’re deep in the hills of a Somalian village.Our mission is to protect the locals from the local militia and secure a peace deal.

Twelve hours in, and no sign of the militia leaders we were supposed to negotiate with.They’re late.

They’re never late, and something’s off.

Carter and Roger insist I go back to the truck to resupply and rest.We’re running low on essentials.With a heavy sense of foreboding, I make the dash.Stuffing my backpack full of ammunition, medical supplies, and water, I’m nearly done when I hear it.

Gunfire.

The sound pierces the air, crisp and unmistakable.And then comes the radio’s crackle.

“Enemy to the south, one hundred feet,” Roger’s voice cuts through the static.

In an instant, my pack is zipped and slung over my shoulder.I sprint back to the two miles to the hot zone, praying I’m not too late.Praying that the peace we sought isn’t drowned out by the ringing of bullets and the loss of my brothers.But even as I run, the gunfire rings louder, and I can’t shake the sinking feeling in my gut, the dread that says life as I know it is about to change forever.

“That was a great session, don’t you think, Kingsley?”Victoria’s voice cuts through my downward spiral when she emerges from the studio.Her face beaming from today’s recording session.

Automatically, I fall into step beside her, and we exit the studio, I hold the front door open for her.

The LA sunlight cascades over her smooth skin, and there’s no disputing her talent and beauty.

I nod, my gaze piercing hers before taking in our surroundings.There’s always a tightness, a tension whenever I am with her.“You were good, as always,” I say, my voice edged with a terseness I didn’t mean to convey.

Victoria shot me a glance, sensing the undercurrents.“Kingsley—”

But her words are cut off by the screeching of tires.Every fiber in me is on high alert, and in a reflexive motion, I shove Victoria away from the road, away from potential harm.

She stumbles, catching herself with a hand on a lamppost.Looking up, her eyes, more worried than upset, met mine.“Jesus!You need to get a grip, Kingsley.That car was far away from us.”

“I’m doing my job,” I snap, but the anger wasn’t truly directed at her.

I know I’m good at my job, yet I’m constantly doubting myself.Every little noise, every unexpected movement sends waves of anxiety.

“Your job is to protect me, not to kill me,” Victoria replies, regains her composure, and walks ahead toward the black SUV.

I exhale and rake a hand through my hair.Each face that flashes in my mind is a ghost of a past I can’t escape.

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