Chapter 9 She wanted a divorce.
Landon moved through the living room, his boots crunching over broken glass as he silently cleaned up the mess. The scent of blood still clung to the air.
He straightened up and paused when his eyes landed on the photo of his daughter on the wall. Aurora smiled brightly in a field of sunflowers, arms stretched wide. He walked over, took the frame down gently, and stared at her face for a long moment.
Ten damn years.
He set the photo beside the couch, then grabbed the nearly empty bottle he had started earlier. Just a few sips left. He sank into the couch and let the drink burn down his throat.
Sleep eventually took him, but it was anything but peaceful.
Landon woke with a start, instincts screaming. His hand shot out and clamped down hard on a wrist.
“Hey—!” a startled voice gasped.
His vision cleared. It was Evelyn, holding a thin blanket.
“It’s just me,” she said quietly. “I was trying to cover you. It’s cold.”
Landon loosened his grip and sat up slowly. “Thanks.”
Evelyn didn’t leave. She sat on the edge of the couch, keeping some distance between them.
Silence stretched for a moment before she spoke.
“Why did you come back?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Landon opened his mouth, but she cut him off.
“For ten years, Landon,” she said, her tone turning hard. “You didn’t come home once. You built your glory on the battlefield while we bled here alone. When Aurora was sick. When I was falling apart. You stayed gone.”
“I—”
“No,” she snapped, shaking her head. “I don’t want to hear it. Not now.”
She looked away, then spoke again, cold and steady. “Next week, the divorce papers will be ready. You should start preparing to sign them.”
Landon stared at her. The words hit like bullets. He felt his throat tighten.
“Evelyn, please…” he said hoarsely. “Just don’t hate me. Not completely.”
She stood up abruptly, turning her back to him. “Leave before Aurora wakes up. I’ll call you when the papers are ready.”
Landon sat slouched on the couch, staring blankly at the photograph of Aurora. Evelyn’s words still rang in his head.
Divorce.
He wasn’t surprised, but it still cut deep.
His phone buzzed sharply on the table. Carter’s name flashed on the screen.
Landon answered. “Yeah?”
“Morning, boss,” Carter greeted. “How’s the house? You alright after last night?”
“Any movement from the Cross?” Landon asked directly.
There was a short pause.
“Nothing yet,” Carter replied. “They’ve gone quiet since the manor incident. I’ve got eyes on the estate though.”
“Good.”
“I was about to head your way,” Carter added. “Thought I’d drive you to the barracks—”
“No need,” Landon cut in. “I’ll handle that myself. But I’ve got something more important for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I need you to look into something,” Landon said, standing up and walking toward the kitchen. “Check for any new gang in town with a mask tattoo on their hand.”
Silence stretched for a second.
“Any reason I should be worried?” Carter asked, tone turning serious.
“Five masked men broke into my house last night,” Landon said flatly. “Fully armed. They came for my wife and daughter.”
“…Shit,” Carter breathed. “Are they okay?”
“I handled it. But I want names, locations, habits—everything. Anyone with that tattoo, I want to know who they eat with, where they sleep, and how loudly they scream when I find them.”
“You got it, boss,” Carter said, voice ice cold now. “I’ll dig deep and fast.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Will do. And Landon?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry they got that close. Won’t happen again.”
Landon hung up without another word.
He stood in the middle of the living room, jaw clenched tight as he stared at Aurora’s photo once more. Then he grabbed his jacket and stepped outside.
The cold morning air hit him, but he barely felt it. He was used to worse.
As he walked toward the gate, his mind drifted back to the past. Evelyn was no ordinary woman. She was a Callister—daughter of General Marius Callister and Lady Helene Callister. Her family controlled military power and political influence like it was nothing.
When Landon had asked for her hand years ago, General Marius had looked him dead in the eyes and said:
“You will never be more than a footnote in this country’s defense history. You’re not Callister material, boy.”
Landon wasn’t wrong. Back then, he had been nothing but a determined cadet with bloody knuckles and fire in his eyes. But Evelyn saw something no one else did. She stood by him when her family tried to drag her away. She was the reason he took the deadly border assignment—to prove himself. To prove them all wrong.
Ten years later, he returned to a wife ready to sign divorce papers and a daughter who didn’t even know his name. If the Callisters caught wind of their broken marriage, they would celebrate with the finest wine and toast to finally being rid of the stray soldier who stole their daughter.
Landon stepped to the roadside and raised his hand. A yellow taxi pulled up.
“Barracks,” he said quietly.
As the car moved through the city, Landon leaned back, eyes fixed ahead.
The moment he stepped through the barracks gates, everything shifted. Soldiers marched in perfect rhythm, but the real noise came from the murmurs cutting through the air.
“Is that him?”
“The new Major General?”
“No way, he’s too young.”
“He’s younger than my cousin and already wearing three stars?”
“I thought he’d be some grey-haired stone-faced legend… not this guy.”
Landon’s steps never faltered. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring every whisper. Let them talk. Let them doubt. The best silence always ended with a reckoning.
He walked straight to the main building. No salutes. No formal welcome. Not a single soldier stood at attention.
Landon pushed open the office door, stepped inside, and dropped into the big leather chair behind the wide mahogany desk—the one that once belonged to General Malkor. Now it was his.
Major General Landon Hayes.
Landon sat behind the mahogany desk, three stars gleaming on his chest. Five campaigns. Two buried enemy units. Zero failures. The brass wasn’t for decoration. It was paid for in blood.
The door creaked open. Carter stepped in, face tight.
“Where are the rest?” Landon asked, voice calm but sharp. “Every officer below my rank should have been lined up before I even passed the gate.”
Carter cleared his throat. “Sir… there’s a meeting happening in Conference Room B. They knew you arrived. They just… didn’t come.”
Landon stayed silent for a beat, eyes narrowing.
Intentional.
He stood up slowly. The chair legs screeched against the floor.
“They must’ve forgotten how hierarchy works,” he muttered.
Carter raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”
Landon adjusted his collar and walked past him. “Some old dogs need to be reminded who owns the leash now.”
