Chapter 2
The words hit harder than Ethan expected.
For fifteen years, Linda had cut hair on that base.
High fades.
Buzz cuts.
Last-minute trims before deployment.
She knew half the men in that command center by the shape of their scars.
She had listened to soldiers talk about wives, kids, funerals, fear, and the things they could not say to anyone wearing rank.
To them, she was Miss Linda.
The woman who remembered their sons’ birthdays.
The woman who kept extra coffee in the back.
The woman who never asked questions when a young operator sat in her chair and stared at the floor too long.
But to Ethan Cross, she was just the base hairdresser.
A civilian.
A distraction.
A nobody.
Linda stepped around him.
Ethan grabbed her arm.
Colonel Robert Peterson stood at the head of the table, eyes locked on the screen.
He had already rejected three rescue plans.
Too exposed.
Too slow.
Too many enemy fighters.
One wrong move would turn four hostages into four folded flags.
“Remove her,” Ethan ordered.
Linda pulled her arm free.
Not violently.
Just with a quick, practiced motion that made Ethan blink.
Then she walked to the front display and pointed at a narrow ridge behind the group of gunmen.
“There,” she said.
No one moved.
Ethan scoffed.
“What are you doing?”
Linda did not answer him.
She tapped the screen.
“That ridge has a blind spot.”
The drone operator frowned and leaned forward.
“What blind spot?”
“Zoom in,” Linda said.
Ethan laughed again.
“Are we really taking tactical advice from a woman who trims sideburns?”
Linda turned on him.
Her voice was low.
Cold.
“You missed it because you’re looking at the hostages.”
The room froze.
She looked back at the map.
May you like
“I’m looking at the men holding them.”
Read Part 3 to find out what Linda saw in the shadows that every officer in the room had missed.
