Chapter 6 - The Blackmail of Blood
The tiny speaker against my ribs buzzed with the echo of my mother’s terrified sobbing, cutting through the thunderous applause of three hundred people standing to honor my promotion.
“He’s going to release documents about your brother’s past that will destroy Ethan’s entire life forever...”
My smile didn't waver. To the officers, the visiting dignitaries, and General Meredith Kane sitting a few feet away, I was the newly minted colonel standing tall in the light of professional triumph. But beneath the polished wool of my service dress uniform, my blood turned to liquid ice.
Ethan.
My little brother had been my anchor fifteen years ago, the only person at that dining room table who had dared to stand up to our father. He was the one who had driven me to the bus station and handed me Grandpa Paul’s compass. If Raymond Hartwell had found a way to weaponize Ethan’s life—to dig up some buried mistake, some youthful collateral damage from living under the shadow of a tyrant—it meant my father was no longer just fighting for his public image.
He was waging total war.
“Colonel Hartwell?” General Kane murmured softly from the edge of the stage, her sharp eyes noticing the subtle stiffening of my jawline. “Are you ready to address the battalion?”
I blinked, pulling myself back from the precipice, and stepped up to the podium. The silver eagles on my collar caught the stage lights.
“Thank you, General,” I said, my voice steady, resonant, and entirely unyielding.
I delivered my ten-minute speech without a single tremor, speaking of service, sacrifice, and the true meaning of family—the kind forged in combat boots and shared hardship rather than bloodlines and corporate wealth. But the moment the final applause faded and the auditorium broke into the informal handshakes and photo-ops of a post-ceremony reception, I turned on my heel and walked straight off the stage toward the side exit.
“Captain Wallace,” I snapped into my collar comms as I strode down the concrete corridor toward the secure administrative wing.
“Ma’am? Right here,” Jenna replied, falling into step beside me.
“Trace an incoming voice note from an external cell routing through the Cedar Rapids area. It was forwarded through my mother's number five minutes ago. I need a geographic fix on the handset right now.”
Jenna’s professional instincts flared instantly. “Is there a security breach, Colonel?”
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“My father just threatened an active-duty soldier's family,” I said coldly, pulling out my secure terminal. “Get military intelligence and the Colorado State Patrol on the line. We’re hunting.”
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