CHAPTERONE
Dante
Moisture gathered within my clenched fists as I stood at attention in front of the jury. This was my first court martial, and I prayed it was my last.
The trial of Sergeant Ward had been grueling. While I hated testifying against a fellow Green Beret, the guy needed to be brought to justice. Fucking cowboy was what he’d become. As if deploying to war-torn countries wasn’t dangerous enough, he’d been putting team members in exorbitant danger during those deployments.
As I gave my statement, Ward’s vehement threat from yesterday echoed through my head.
Retract your statement, Bateman, or I’ll make your life a living fucking hell.
I wasn’t one to buckle under the weight of idle threats. Ward could get ass-fucked in prison with a rusty shank for all I cared. After all, I washere—stateside—giving evidence instead of serving in the Middle East where I was originally scheduled to be.
I’d served multiple overseas tours with Ward, and his unhinged mental state had reached new heights during the last rotation to Iraq. While he maintained during his defense that he was well within his rights to fire at will, I’d witnessed his thirst for killing firsthand as it escalated far beyond the call of duty, well outside therules of engagementparameters.
I saw what he did. How he boasted and took photos with the deceased, ridiculing them and, at times, desecrating their bodies. Sure, they were the enemy, but fuck me, the guy’s lack of moral bearing was absolutely disgusting.
My uniform was a fraction too tight and my body temperature rose during my recounts. They summoned the ghosts I forever kept locked in the deepest recesses of my mind. The place where my empathy couldn’t penetrate. The part of me that froze over many years ago.
The questions from the jury were meant to cause contradictions in my statement, and while the offenses happened almost a year ago, they were still crystal clear in my mind. Gut-churningly so.
“Thank you, Sergeant Bateman. You may be seated,” the commanding officer in charge of the court martial instructed.
Thank fuck for that.I breathed a silent sigh of relief as I left the stand. I was risking my career by speaking out, but I simply couldn’t stand by while Ward got away with his war crimes.
My fellow Green Beret teammate, Shane “Forrest” Matthers, was called to the stand.
Forrest had also been on the deployment in question, and this was the second time we’d faced the verbal firing squad during this inquiry. Giving evidence and eyewitness accounts was hard as fuck, but was needed to back up the accusations Ward was on trial for. In our eyes, he was guilty. No question about it.
* * *
“Fuck, that was intense. Hopefully a damn verdict is reached soon,” Forrest muttered when the military court finally adjourned for the day.
“They’re saying by early next week, maybe sooner.” I straightened my jacket, then flexed my fingers open and closed. “I’ll be pissed if he gets off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Ward is a liability, one I’m not comfortable serving with.”
Forrest hummed and pushed through the exit door. “Me neither, brother. Beer?”
Following him into the warm Kentucky afternoon, I finally breathed a little freer. “Fuck yes. I need one after that shit.”
Walking in unison down the camp road toward one of the many bars, my phone vibrated in my pants pocket. Forrest continued his rambling conversation while I fished it out.
Jenny: You guys done?
I focused on typing with both thumbs.
Me: Yeah, bro. Heading to the bar now.
Jenny: Sweet. Me, Doughboy, and Pittsy will meet you there.
“Boys are coming down for a drink,” I murmured.
Forrest’s dark brows lifted. “Which ones?”
“Jenny, Doughboy, and Pittsy.”
He snorted. “Tucker heading home?”
“Probably. He’s pussy-whipped into submission.”