Page 1 of Blade and Arrow Origins (Blade and Arrow Security)

COLE

This never should have happened.

When I took this job, it was because I thought I could make a difference.

Just because I wasn’t helping people as a Green Beret anymore, it didn’t mean I couldn’t protect them another way.

Newly separated from the Army, the transition to police officer made sense.

It was like the recruiter said, “We actively look for former military to join the force. With your experience and skills, you’d be a huge asset to us.

And we can provide great benefits—four day workweeks, competitive pay, opportunities for promotion…

you can see your family more often. Have a life outside your job. ”

My family is gone, but I do have friends around the country that I want to visit.

And the appeal of using my skills to still help people was too great to ignore.

Plus, I liked the idea of moving someplace new.

Maybe building a new life here in San Antonio, finding a house, and if the stars align, maybe even a relationship one day.

So I packed up my stuff and left the only life I’d known for over a decade. Left my teammates. Left the security of a career I was good at to try something completely new.

Was I nervous about it? Of course. How could I not be?

But after everything that happened in Afghanistan, it was clear my time in the Army was over.

Without the teammates who’d become like family, it would have been too hard.

Without Finn, and Rylan, and Nora… How could I go on when half my team couldn’t?

After we got back to Fort Campbell following that terrible mission, it wasn’t a surprise that Leo and Zane left, too. Their hearts weren’t in it any more than mine.

So my team fractured, my six closest friends scattering around the country, all trying to deal with the repercussions of that mission the best they could.

Leo went to New York City, Zane to Virginia, Rylan continued his rehab in upstate New York, Finn took off to Colorado, and Nora retreated to her mother’s place in California.

I miss them.

But when I came here, I had hopes that keeping busy with my new job would help dull the pain.

And in the beginning, it did, a little. I met my new partner, who’s become a close friend, and I got to know the city.

I explored Texas, taking solo trips to Austin and Dallas and Houston, and during one long stretch of days off, I even headed all the way up to Amarillo.

I hoped this would be enough to fill the gaping hole left behind.

I didn’t expect the new friends I made—other first responders working in San Antonio—to replace my teammates, but I hoped to build a life I could enjoy.

Some of it came true. I’ve grown to like it here—the warm winters, the people, the apartment with a bit of yard just big enough to sit out and grill, and the feeling of accomplishment when I help a victim in need.

But I worry it’s never going to be enough. Not when the people I love like my own family are so far away, still trying to cope with their own struggles.

And today.

I don’t know how to process the emotions running through me.

I haven’t been this upset—

Shit.

Since I got home, I haven’t stopped pacing. My body is vibrating with tension, but there’s nowhere for it to go. There’s nothing that’s going to take away the frustration, the anger, and the sorrow about what just happened.

About what could have been stopped, if not for those damn rules.

The fucking red tape.

The bureaucratic bullshit that kept me and my partner from helping a woman in terrible danger.

As I keep circling my living room, the walls feel like they’re closing in on me.

Impotent rage bubbles up in my chest. Pain shoots through my jaw and down my neck. I nearly crack a molar trying to keep everything in.

This never should have happened.

Dana should still be alive.

Her body shouldn’t be at the coroner’s, awaiting an autopsy to determine her exact cause of death.

It’s not really necessary, anyway. We all know how she died. Her asshole ex-boyfriend killed her.

When she came into the station last month, her eye a mess of violent purples and blues, she was hesitant to file charges against her ex. Even though he hit her, had many times before, she was worried a restraining order would only make things worse.

“What if this makes him angrier?” she asked worriedly, her gaze skittering around the station like she expected him to come storming in any second. “I want to keep him away from me, but I’m scared. Maybe I should move out of state. But… what if he comes after me? He said he would.”

My partner and I couldn’t give her the answer she wanted, which was that we could guarantee her ex would leave her alone. We couldn’t. But we could help her file the restraining order, guaranteeing if he did come near her again, he’d be arrested.

We made suggestions, too—that Dana should stay with a friend, not go places on her own, keep meticulous records of any contact with her ex—but it didn’t feel like enough. Not when I know from experience how toxic relationships can become deadly.

When I talked to Dana, she reminded me of Clara. Kind-hearted, smart, quietly funny, and she was a nurse, just like my sister wanted to be.

Did her case become personal to me? Yes.

Every time she’d call to report something new happening—her car vandalized while she was at work, anonymous letters with threatening messages—I worried we weren’t doing enough. That over time, her ex would escalate, and the restraining order wouldn’t keep her safe.

So I went to my lieutenant and asked for permission to put Dana under police protection. A safe house or having an officer on her apartment, even volunteering to take unpaid shifts, if necessary. But he told me no. It wasn’t in the budget. There wasn’t enough evidence.

“I feel your frustration,” he told me, frowning as he said it. “But my hands are tied. And I can’t have officers working without pay. The union would have my head.”

I still made sure Dana had my number. Not because I had any romantic feelings for her—far from it, she reminded me of my sister—but just in case she needed help.

It didn’t matter.

She never had a chance to call.

Her ex broke into her apartment and killed her before she could get to her phone.

And I’m so fucking furious.

It shouldn’t have happened. Why did I become a police officer if I can’t protect someone when they really need it?

With an aggravated sigh, I head into the kitchen to grab a beer, popping it open and taking a healthy swig. I know drinking isn’t going to make me feel better, far from it, but one beer might help tamp down some of my anger.

Once I get back to the living room—it’s not far, not in this tiny apartment—I flop down on the couch and turn on the TV, searching for something mindless to watch.

Maybe a ridiculous alien movie or one of those home improvement shows where the homeowners say unrealistic things like, we’ll just knock down that wall over there, no problem , or I want a brand new kitchen but my budget is five thousand dollars .

Kicking my shoes off, I put my feet up on the coffee table, thinking of how Zane would call me out on it immediately. I’ve always been the one of our team who wants things neat, would never dream of putting my feet on the furniture, a holdover from my mom’s rules when I was a kid.

I should call Zane. He would understand why I’m so upset. My entire team would.

Maybe we can have a group call with whoever’s available.

Have some beers and talk about anything that isn’t depressing.

Leo’s job in Manhattan. How many women Zane’s hooked up with lately.

Finn’s new interest in hiking. Anything that will make me feel like I’m back at the bar off-base, shooting the shit with my teammates, before all our lives were turned upside down.

Or maybe I can get online and look for flights.

I’ve got some vacation time coming up. I won’t be able to visit everyone, but if I head out to New York, fly into the city, I could see Leo, and then take the train upstate to Salem, where Rylan lives.

If Leo has any time off, he could head up there with me, and the three of us could spend the weekend together.

We could grill, reminisce about the good times we had—there were a lot—and I can ask them for advice.

Try to figure out if it’s time for me to look for a new job.

Do I want to start over again? Search for another job? Another place to live? Can I find a career that’s going to bring me the same satisfaction as serving in the Army?

I’m just picking up my phone to check airline prices when it buzzes with an incoming text.

Hey. How’s it going? Just got home from work, thought I’d check in.

Leo.

My lips lift as I read my friend’s text. My shoulders relax a fraction. The band wrapped tightly around my chest loosens a little.

Man. I really miss my teammates.

Setting down my beer, I type out a reply.

Honestly? Not great. I had a pretty shit day.

There’s no pretense with Leo or any of my teammates. We may not come right out and talk about our emotions, but if something is bothering one of us, we know the rest have our six.

Leo responds immediately.

What’s going on?

It takes me a minute to answer his question.

A woman came to us looking for protection from her ex. We helped her with the restraining order, but we weren’t allowed to do anything else. No protection, safe house, nothing. The guy killed her last night. It’s just so… Fuck. It’s so messed up.

I pause, then start typing again.

It’s so frustrating. Why be a cop if I can’t protect the people who need it? There’s so much red tape, so many rules… I get some of them, but when people are dying. It’s wrong.

Grabbing my beer, I take a sip as I wait for Leo to reply. The three dots blink on and off several times before his text comes through.

That’s messed up. I’m sorry. You know it’s not your fault, right?

Do I?

Logically, yes. But in my heart, I’m not so sure.

I stand up and walk over to the window, staring at the buzz of activity outside. When I picked this apartment, I thought the busy location would be good—close to restaurants and stores and a park just a half mile away—but right now, I wish I were anyplace but here.

My finger poised above the screen, I debate just how much to reveal.

It makes me think about Clara. And I think about how there should be a better way to help people.

I respect the police, but sometimes, it’s not enough.

If we’d been able to put protection on this woman, she’d still be alive.

It just feels so wrong. I thought coming here I’d be able to make a difference. But it doesn’t feel like that.

Leo doesn’t mess around with platitudes but gets right to the point.

Do you want to quit? Find a new job?

Do I?

After a moment’s thought, I reply.

Maybe. If I could find the right one. But I’m not sure it’s out there.

Leo’s message comes back right away.

Do you regret leaving?

There’s a pause, and then another text appears.

Sometimes I do. Not leaving the Army, exactly. But leaving you guys. And I miss that feeling. Like I was really helping. Now I’m hacking security systems for Fortune 500 companies. It’s not the same.

No, it’s not.

And it gets me thinking.

I know Rylan’s not happy working in his father’s shop.

Finn hates his warehouse job. Nora’s at loose ends, doing some part-time work as a translator.

Zane loves his martial arts, but he admitted during our last phone call that he doesn’t like spending all his time teaching. And given what Leo just said…

Maybe there isn’t something out there yet. But could there be?

What if there is a way to help people who have nowhere else to turn?

Between me and my team, we have the skills. We could protect people like Dana and Clara.

Could I?

Could we?

Maybe.

A smile touching my lips, I reply to Leo.

It’s not the same. But I might have an idea. I have to do some research, but if it’s solid, I’ll let you know.

Leo’s text comes in right away.

Definitely. You know I’m with you.

The weight on my shoulders lifts. Hope blooms in my chest.

Maybe there’s another way.

And I open the browser on my phone, not to look at flights, but real estate.

Maybe I can bring my team together again.