Chapter 2
The drive to the hospital took twelve minutes.
Emma drifted in and out of consciousness in the passenger seat, her head lolling against the window. Daniel kept one hand on the wheel and the other pressed to her wrist, counting her pulse like he had counted enemy heartbeats in the desert.
Thirty-seven. Too slow.
He pressed harder.
Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine.
The old Ford rumbled down West End Avenue, blowing past three red lights. Normally, a siren would have been on him in seconds. Today, nothing.
Andrew was right about one thing. The system in this town belonged to him.
Daniel’s satellite phone buzzed once. A text appeared on the screen: PACKAGE INBOUND. ETA NINETY MINUTES.
He didn't reply. He didn't need to.
At Vanderbilt University Medical Center, the automatic doors slid open. A nurse saw Emma’s face and shouted for a trauma team before Daniel had even cleared the threshold. They wheeled her away on a gurney, shouting medical terms he understood too well—orbital fracture, possible concussion, cervical tenderness, airway protection.
A doctor with kind eyes and a trembling hand pulled him aside.
“Sir, the injuries... they’re consistent with severe blunt force trauma. We’re required to contact the police in cases like this.”
Daniel looked at the man. He saw the hesitation. The fear.
“Go ahead,” he said quietly. “Call them.”
The doctor nodded and walked away.
Daniel sat in the hard plastic chair of the waiting room. He didn't pray. He didn't pace. He sat perfectly still, his hands folded in his lap, watching the door to the trauma bay. He had sat like this in Baghdad, in Kabul, in a dozen places where the air smelled of blood and diesel. Waiting for news. Waiting for the enemy to make a mistake.
Thirty minutes later, two uniformed officers arrived.
They were young. Mid-twenties. Clean uniforms. Shiny shoes. They looked at Daniel with the automatic deference people gave to men who carried themselves like they had seen things no one should ever see.
“Colonel Mercer?” one asked.
Daniel stood. “That’s me.”
“We’re here about your daughter. We spoke with the attending physician. She says the injuries are... concerning.”
“Concerning doesn't cover it,” Daniel said. “My daughter’s husband beat her within an inch of her life. Her mother-in-law watched and complained about the carpet.”
The officers exchanged a glance.
“Andrew Prescott?” the second officer asked. His voice had changed. Tightened.
“You know him.”
“Everyone knows him,” the first officer said. “He’s... well-connected. Sir, we’re going to need to take a formal statement. But I should tell you—Mr. Prescott’s attorney has already called the precinct. He’s alleging your daughter assaulted him first. That you threatened him with a weapon when you arrived.”
Daniel stared at them.
“Of course he did.”
“He also says you have a history of instability. Military service, PTSD, a documented incident in—”
“I know what my record says,” Daniel interrupted. “And I know exactly how this plays out. You’ll take my statement. You’ll ‘investigate.’ Then you’ll quietly close the file because the sheriff owes Andrew’s father a favor from twenty years ago. Or the prosecutor plays golf with him every Saturday. Or the judge’s wife sits on the same charity board as his mother.”
The officers said nothing.
Their silence was answer enough.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Daniel said, his voice dropping to the register he used when giving orders to men who would follow him into hell. “You’re going to write your reports. You’re going to do exactly what your superiors tell you to do. And when this is all over, you’re going to remember this moment. You’re going to remember that you stood in a hospital waiting room while an innocent woman fought for her life, and you did nothing because you were afraid of a man who beats women.”
The first officer’s jaw tightened.
“Sir, we’re just doing our job.”
“Then do it honestly,” Daniel said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small digital recorder. “This has everything. The call from Emma. The conversation at the house. Andrew admitting the local authorities are in his pocket. Keep it. Or don’t. I have three more backups in three different locations.”
He held it out.
Neither officer moved.
“Take it,” Daniel said. “Before I decide you’re part of the problem.”
The first officer reached out and took the recorder. His hand was shaking.
“Now,” Daniel said, sitting back down. “Get out of my way. I have a daughter to worry about.”
They left without another word.
An hour passed.
The satellite phone buzzed again.
This time, it was a voice call.
“Eagle Actual,” a familiar voice said. “We’re wheels down in Nashville. Standing by for your orders.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
For the first time since the phone rang at 1:04 p.m., he allowed himself to breathe.
“Status,” he said.
“Four-man team on the ground. Two more inbound from Fort Campbell. Full surveillance package active. We’ve got eyes on the Prescott residence, the office, the country club, and the mistress’s apartment in Green Hills.”
Daniel’s eyes snapped open.
“Mistress?”
“Going on three years,” the voice said. “Name’s Sarah Chen. Twenty-eight. Senior analyst at Sentinel. Andrew bought her a condo last Christmas. We’ve got financial records showing he’s been diverting company funds to support her. Roughly two point three million so far.”
Daniel processed this.
Andrew wasn't just a monster. He was a thief. A liar. A man who had built his entire life on secrets and leverage.
“Good,” Daniel said. “What about the local authorities?”
“Sheriff Tompkins is on his way to the Prescott house right now. We’re listening. He’s advising Andrew to destroy any evidence of prior incidents. Medical records, text messages, the security camera footage from today.”
“Let him,” Daniel said. “We have it all already, don’t we?”
“Every frame. Every keystroke. Every phone call for the last six years. The team pulled it all in the first forty minutes. Andrew’s security system is good. Ours is better.”
Daniel looked at the trauma bay doors. They still hadn't opened.
“Here’s the plan,” he said. “Phase One: Information. I want every skeleton in the Prescott family closet dug up and laid out. Every bribe. Every contract that shouldn't exist. Every woman Andrew has ever touched without consent. Every time his mother covered for him. I want it organized. Prioritized. Ready to deploy.”
“Understood.”
“Phase Two: Isolation. Andrew thinks he’s untouchable because he has friends in high places. We’re going to show him those friends have expiration dates. Quietly. Professionally. No one gets hurt. Not yet. But every single person who owes him a favor is going to wake up tomorrow with a very difficult choice to make.”
“Consider it done.”
“Phase Three: We wait.”
“Wait?”
“Andrew’s arrogant,” Daniel said. “He thinks he’s already won. He’ll throw a party. He’ll brag to his friends. He’ll make a mistake. And when he does... we’ll be there.”
The line went quiet for a moment.
“Colonel,” the voice said. “You know once we start this, there’s no going back. The Prescotts have been Nashville royalty for three generations. They’ll come after you with everything they have.”
Daniel thought of Emma’s face. Swollen. Bleeding. Broken.
He thought of the way Andrew had adjusted his watch while standing over her unconscious body.
He thought of Margaret complaining about the carpet.
“Let them,” Daniel said. “They have no idea who they’re fighting.”
The trauma bay doors slid open.
The doctor walked out. His face was unreadable.
“Colonel Mercer?”
Daniel ended the call and stood.
“How is she?”
“She’s stable,” the doctor said. “The orbital fracture will need surgery. She has a concussion that’s going to take months to recover from. And... Colonel...”
He hesitated.
“There are older injuries. Healing fractures. Scar tissue. This wasn't the first time.”
Daniel felt the old, familiar cold settle into his bones. The same cold he had felt staring across no-man’s-land at enemies who thought they were safe.
“I know,” he said. “It won't be the last time either. Because it’s over now.”
The doctor nodded slowly.
“Would you like to see her?”
“More than anything.”
“One more thing,” the doctor said, lowering his voice. “The police never filed a report. The officers who were here... their superiors called them away. Said there was ‘insufficient evidence’ to proceed.”
Daniel didn't even flinch.
“Like I said,” he told the doctor. “It’s over now.”
He walked through the doors into his daughter’s room.
Emma lay in the bed, her face bandaged, monitors beeping steadily beside her. She looked so small. So fragile. Nothing like the bright, laughing girl who used to climb onto his shoulders and declare she was going to be the first female president.
He pulled a chair beside the bed and took her hand.
Her fingers moved. Weak. But there.
“Dad?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“I’m here, baby,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“He said... he said you couldn't help me. That no one could.”
Daniel squeezed her hand gently.
“He was wrong.”
Emma’s eyes filled with tears that leaked out from under the bandages.
“I’m so scared, Dad. He has everyone. The police. The judges. Even my own friends won't return my calls anymore. He said if I ever left him, he’d take the kids and disappear. That I’d never see them again.”
Daniel’s blood turned to ice in his veins.
The kids.
Seven-year-old Jacob and five-year-old Lily. They had been at Andrew’s sister’s house for Easter. Safe. For now.
But Andrew was right. In Tennessee, with his connections and his money and his perfect reputation, he could absolutely take those children. A judge who owed his family favors would look at Emma’s medical records—records Andrew would have altered to show she was unstable, violent, suicidal—and he would hand Andrew full custody without a second thought.
This wasn't just about justice anymore.
It was about survival.
About saving three people from a man who would destroy them all without a second thought.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Daniel said, leaning close. “You are never going to be alone again. Never. And Andrew is never going to hurt you or those children ever again. Do you understand me?”
Emma nodded weakly.
“How?” she whispered. “How can you possibly fight him?”
Daniel looked at the door of her hospital room. Somewhere out there, six of the most dangerous men he had ever known were moving through Nashville like shadows. Men who owed him their lives. Men who had spent their entire professional careers dismantling enemies far more powerful than Andrew Prescott.
Men who didn't play by the rules.
May you like
Because the rules had been written by people like Andrew.
“Because,” Daniel said quietly, “he spent six years building a kingdom out of secrets and money and fear. And I brought an army to burn it to the ground.”
