CHAPTER 1: THE FLAG THEY TRIED TO STEAL
The kitchen inside my modest home on the outskirts of Fort Campbell smelled faintly of toasted sourdough and strong coffee while I packed three identical lunchboxes under the hum of the fluorescent lights. Precision had become second nature to me after working for years in military intelligence, a field where a single wrong coordinate could end lives just as easily as a forgotten sandwich crust could trigger a morning meltdown from my seven-year-old triplets.
Connor and Zoey were bickering loudly over a blue marker in the living room while Sam sat quietly at the kitchen island, watching me with that unsettling perception only certain children possess. He always noticed the things I tried hardest to hide, especially on mornings when the sheer weight of exhaustion pressed against the back of my smile.
