“Dad… Please Come Get Me… He H.i.t Me Again,” My Daughter Sobbed On Easter Sunday Before A Scream, A Vi0lent Crash, And ᴅᴇᴀᴅ Silence Cut The Call. Twenty Minutes Later, I Found Her Bleeding On Her Husband’s White Persian Rug While His Mother Sneered, “Go Back To Your Lonely Little House.” They Thought I Was Just A Retired Old Man In A Rusted Pickup. They Had No Idea What That Phone Call Had Just Activated…

I placed Callie in the passenger seat and secured her with blankets, ignoring the red smears on my upholstery. I didn’t head for the local hospital, knowing Simon’s influence reached every hallway of that building.

I pulled a rugged, black satellite phone from the glove box and flipped it open. The screen glowed with a dull amber light, and I hit the only programmed number.

“Speak,” a voice answered, sounding like shifting tectonic plates.

“This is Nomad,” I said, using the call sign I hadn’t uttered since the mountains of Tora Bora. “I am calling in a Debt of Honor, Code Crimson.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by the sound of rapid typing.

“Identity confirmed, Nomad,” the voice replied. “Give us the coordinates and the target.”

“The Thorne estate in Ridgeview Heights,” I commanded. “My daughter has been assaulted, and the local authorities are compromised.”

“Understood,” the voice said with a chilling lack of emotion. “We have a team in the sector on a training exercise, and they are moving to your position now.”