Chapter 40: The Return of the Gray Ghost

We didn't get a hero’s welcome at COP Titan. We got a lockdown.

As the birds touched down, I saw Major Sterling standing on the edge of the helipad, his face a thundercloud. He didn't wait for us to offload our gear. He marched straight to Captain James, his boots kicking up dust.

"Captain," Sterling barked. "My office. Now. And bring Specialist Ramírez."

The bay was silent as we walked through. The men watched us, their hands on their rifles. The tension was thick enough to taste. Inside the TOC, Sterling slammed a folder onto the plywood desk.

"I’ve spent the last six hours on the horn with Bagram," Sterling hissed. "The report of the 'standoff' here at the TOC reached the Colonel. You’ve created a cult of personality, James. And you," he turned to me, his eyes filled with a cold, bureaucratic loathing, "you are the catalyst. I can’t court-martial a whole platoon during an active HVT cycle, but I can certainly dismantle the leadership."

"I took full responsibility for the men's actions, Major," James said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

"It’s too late for that," Sterling replied. "The 3rd Platoon is being broken up. You’re being reassigned to a desk in Kabul, James. And Ramírez... you’re going to a holding cell in Bagram pending an investigation into 'undue familiarization' with a superior officer."

My heart hammered against my ribs. He had found the one thing that could destroy us both. The kiss on the ridge. The hand on my jaw. Someone had talked, or Sterling had simply guessed correctly.