Darkest Before Dawn
It was what Hancock would have done years ago, hell, even a month ago. But that was before Honor. Before he’d actually seen and experienced goodness. He wanted Maksimov to suffer as no man had ever suffered. He wanted to return all that Maksimov had done to Honor tenfold. But that made him no better, no different than the monster who’d brutalized Honor and countless others. He didn’t want to be that man anymore. He wanted to be a man Honor would have been proud of. He wanted to be worthy of her. He wanted to be like her.
“You deserve no mercy for what you have wrought,” Hancock said in a voice that seethed with both anger and grief. “But I am better than you. And I won’t lower myself to your standards. I will not become you.”
He turned, sparing only a quick glance at the men who’d stood guard. Who’d saved Honor. Who even now were prepared to turn their back on what he wanted to do to Maksimov and swear ignorance of his fate. Good men whom he would have dragged into hell with him if he’d carried out his vengeance.
“Hand him over to Resnick. I have no use for this pathetic piece of shit,” Hancock spat, ignoring the looks of surprise and . . . respect. He walked past them and kept walking, only wanting to be away from this place and the memories that burrowed insidiously into his mind. Closing his eyes to all he’d gained—and lost—in such a short amount of time. A lifetime.
“Hey, hold up,” Rio said, jogging after his former teammate.
Hancock stopped, but all he wanted to do was just go. To be left alone.
“Want a ride to Honor’s place? By the time we get stateside, she’ll be at her family’s house.”
For a moment he couldn’t breathe for the pain splintering through his body, heart, soul.
“No,” he finally said in a low voice.
Rio shot him a look of surprise. “What the fuck, man? You’re walking away?”
Hancock turned on him, his features savage as anger rushed hot through his veins.
“I betrayed her. I broke so many promises I can’t even count. I don’t deserve her and she certainly deserves a hell of a lot better than me. She hates me but not more than I hate myself.”
“Don’t do this, man,” Rio said, his eyes dark with sympathy. “Don’t do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”
“Too late,” Hancock bit out, and he turned and walked away.
CHAPTER 42
KYLE Phillips stood in the living room of Honor’s parents’ home facing her entire family. Her mother, father, four brothers and her sister. There was stark grief in their eyes because he knew they assumed the worst.
The news had broken just the night before that the terrorist group responsible for the attack on the relief center Honor had volunteered at had been completely taken out by a joint U.S. special forces unit and SEAL teams. Her family was fully prepared to be told that their daughter’s death, although already broadcast over the news for endless days and nights immediately following the attack, could now be officially confirmed. There’d been no survivors, according to reports, though Honor’s body had never been returned. It was through that, that her family had clung stubbornly to hope. But now? They fully expected official confirmation of Honor’s death.
After formally introducing himself, Kyle asked them to sit and waited until they complied before he said what he’d come to say. There was no easy or delicate way to say what he had to say, and he wasn’t one to tiptoe around an issue. It was a lot less time consuming to get straight to the point.
“Your daughter is alive,” he said, no inflection to his tone as he took in all their faces and the sudden change from resignation to wary hope.
There was complete silence. Stunned expressions. Shock. And then it seemed to register what he was telling them. Her mother burst into tears as did her sister. Her brothers rocked forward, faces in their palms, and her father went ashen.
“W-what?” Mandie’s voice quivered as she stared at the Marine in disbelief. “But we were told she was dead. The whole country was told she was dead. It’s all the news has talked about since the attack on the relief center where she worked. What on earth are you saying?”
“She survived,” Kyle said quietly. “I understand this comes as a shock . . .”
He got no further before he was bombarded with questions.
“Where is she?” Honor’s mother said hoarsely, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Is she all right?” her father demanded. “Why isn’t she here? Why are you here and not her? What aren’t you telling us? Is she hurt?”
“Why the hell weren’t we informed before now?” Brad bit out angrily, his eyes ablaze with relief but also suspicion.
Kyle held his hands up to silence the torrent of conversation.
“I need you to listen to everything I have to tell you. It’s very important and it’s why I arrived first. She’s on her way here now. She’s not very far out, but I needed to come ahead to . . . prepare you.”
“Prepare us?” Honor’s mother whispered, her voice thick with tears, and now fear.
Sensing the importance of what Kyle had to say, everyone went silent and leaned forward, concern etched into their every feature.
Kyle gave them the details—most of them—of Honor’s escape and recapture. He gave an accounting of everything that had happened. Except anything relating to Hancock. Hancock was Honor’s to either reveal or not, but he’d not take that choice from her.