I Promise You: A Dark Military Romance (Scarred Executioners Book 2)
I Promise You: Chapter 2

Ari slowly breathes into a mask full of oxygen as the ambulance races to the nearest hospital, bypassing cars and running all the red lights. Each second that passes, I’m praying I get to see my girl open her eyes for me.

I’m watching her now like my life fucking depends on it. I look down at her torso as the medics attend to her wounds, exposing her stomach, and I’m going crazy on the inside.

There’s complete, utter chaos burning every single cell within my blood, but on the outside…I’m calm and composed, as I usually am in these situations. My own parents trained me to be like this. An emotionless bastard since I was a child.

“Daniel, work comes before family, before friends…before love.”

I grit my teeth as I remember his condescending belittlement as a little boy.

“As soon as you understand that work always comes first, son, you’ll be a successful man like me.”

My father’s words ring into my head as I look at the woman who has me on my knees.

I despise him because look at me now.

I’m a fucked-up mess, but Ari and our baby… they’ve made me feel like I’m deserving of a family. Something I used to think was a curse.

I was just too gone and selfish to understand it.

But when I revealed every single dark shadow that plagued me, she did something that made me realize this world isn’t such a terrible place to be in as I thought it was.

Even after I told her everything…

She stayed.

She stayed and accepted me, no questions asked.

Even when I told her about the day that haunts me and her.

One ghastly thought sits at the back of my head, knocking on my door, and I’m trying to block it out, but it’s a real possibility I’m hoping never comes true.

Our baby not making it through this.

I keep thinking about our baby.

Please don’t leave your mother and I.

Death has Shane now, but I refuse to let it consume our baby, too.

I wish our little one who holds a part of me and the woman who holds my heart hostage will also make it through this.

Our baby will make it through this.

Faith is a funny thing to me. I don’t believe in it, but I believe in fate.

After all, fate kept bringing Ari to me when I tried to fight it.

This whole time since I met her, I wanted to protect her…from myself.

And that’s when I feel a frigid breath on the back of my neck, sending icy prickles into every fiber of my bones, and my hair raises. Death is nearby, but he’s not telling me a word this time, leaving me in a frantic state of hope.

Now you decide to not speak? Now you don’t want to talk?

Fuck you.

But again…I’m only returned with pure silence, making every second I watch Ari asleep more painful.

One of the worst kinds of emotions to feel when you’re hoping things go your way.

Hope is like fear in some ways. An emotion tethered by trauma.

False hope is as cruel as death.

I lick my lips as I watch my little angel breathe.

Her skin is pale, almost gray, but that’s what happens when you literally meet my good friend because of all the blood she lost.

He hovered over her like the stalker that he is, eager to reap her up to Heaven, where I know she’ll be in the afterlife.

I wouldn’t let him take her from me.

I pleaded with Death because her soul isn’t his.

Hell, it’s not even hers–it’s mine.

I will not live if she doesn’t. I’ll cut my own heart out of my fucking chest to join her in the afterlife. Even though I know I’m headed to Hell when it’s my time with the number of lives I’ve already sent there.

Still…I won’t ever let Ari escape me. I’m madly trapped beneath her wings.

Holding her into my arms as she bled out was all too hauntingly familiar, and all I kept thinking about was the night when we lost her brother, my best friend, Paul. My hands are stained with the blood I’ve spilled and taken. Paul slipped away to join Death and all I could do was watch the blood pour out of all of his wounds…just like my Ari.

To this day, I will forever regret not keeping the promise he made us all do when he first asked for it.

I’ve always been a selfish man, but not anymore.

I never knew what she looked like because I don’t pry into my friends’ lives.

Paul didn’t have social media, and neither did I. I still don’t. I prefer to keep my life private, as did Paul. We were alike in that sense.

Our conflicting work schedules made it hard for us to hang out when we were home simultaneously, but when we did, it sure was fucking fun. We’d been friends for five years, saving each other’s asses occasionally.

When a man wielding a sword ambushed me, he saved my life. My attacker sliced my back, but Paul put a bullet through his head before he could do more. Now, it’s a scar. The first scar Ari noticed when I took her to my house the first time.

The ambulance swerved sharply and everyone inside was thrown off balance. My instincts kicked in right away, and I held onto my girl so she would stay safe from swaying, but the vehicle regained control and rushed to the ER. I can see the red sign awaiting our arrival.

I finally feel the pain from where I was stabbed in the chest. It throbs and burns. Shane’s weak attempt to redeem himself, but it’s just another scratch truthfully.

I quickly give myself a once-over. He only cut through muscle. I’ll be fine like I always am.

I look at her short hair and get lost in the strands of it. The color of her hair is so black; it’s almost obsidian, and her soft velvet hair reminds me of the dark, unforgiving night I met Death for the first time.

Where my journey of guilt began. In Iraq. The mission that killed my brother. The ultimate decision that caused Paul’s death and left me with self-blame.

“It’s colder than Grim’s heart up here. This beanie isn’t doing shit for me.” Rooker’s teeth chatter, and white puffs of air loom as he breathes the words out.

And here we fucking go. Let the banter begin.

I shake my head, clenching my jaw.

He’s not lying; we’re all freezing our balls off.

“Remember that time we went fishing, bro?” Paul looks back at Kane over his shoulder, then turns to Lopez. “What I would do to be back in Florida on a warm and sandy beach. Grim and Cobra didn’t catch shit that day!” Paul jokes with the cowboy from Texas, as our boots crush twigs underneath our boots, high into the mountains of Iraq.

It’s dark, but our night vision eyewear allows us to see. It’s cloudy, and the moon has betrayed us. We have nothing to guide us through the night but our equipment.

We are in the middle of fucking nowhere with no other civilian in sight, and it gives us a small window to talk before it’s time to get to work.

“How could I forget? You lost my favorite fishing rod, dick,” I spit, walking over a log and clutching my rifle tight in my hand.

“It’s not my fault the fish chose me over you. They just like me better, just like the women,” he delivers it like an overconfident remark, and I don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling ear to ear, antagonizing me.

He’s always fucking with me because I’m the only one on the team who hasn’t committed to any girl. I don’t do relationships. I don’t have the fucking time to entertain a girl back home long enough to keep her. I don’t want to. It’s pointless.

I’m never home anyway, so what’s the purpose?

I like having work as my number one priority and nothing and no one else.

I roll my eyes.

“It’s also not my fault a fucking shark ripped it out of my hands.” Paul lets out a harsh breath as he continues, as if he’s having a hard time keeping up. We’ve been hiking around fifteen miles now, but we can’t stop. We’re already so close to our destination.

The number one terrorist on the list awaits his doom, and we’re gladly going to bring it to him.

He executed an attack on one of the US embassies, killing ten contracted workers, chopping their heads off, and hanging them on spikes.

That didn’t sit well with our country, so…they brought another mission to my team and we eagerly accepted it.

“I should’ve thrown you in the water, giving them more to eat.” I smirk, refraining a laugh from escaping my throat as I think of that sunny day in Florida. It was a four-day weekend and the boys and I wreaked havoc in Miami and bar-hopped for three straight nights. It wasn’t El Devine, but it was fun.

“The longest recorded sniper kill was achieved by a new Navy SEAL. Did you hear about it? Nobody even thought it was possible, but this guy made a fucking headshot from football fields away. Fucking insane. Admiral Ravenmore was impressed enough, and they’re in talks to add him to our team,” Kane shares with us, getting between Paul and me, huffing through his difficulty to even out his breathing.

He’s captured my full attention and piqued my interest.

I glance over at him, raising a brow, and I see drops of sweat fall off his eyelash. My Reaper mask doesn’t stop me from showing my emotion. My eyes say it all.

“No fucking way. What’s his name?” Rooker asks, re-adjusting his rifle over his shoulder on my right.

“His name is Hannibal. His Operator name is—” Something tweaks in the distance, interrupting Kane from talking further. It sounds like a branch breaking…a branch breaking under someone’s foot. It sounds like a threat.

We all grow quiet in less than a second. We all lock our lips tight, and we stop moving. Our teams go rigid, holding our rifles up to our eyes, ready to engage.

We crouch, and I search for any life that may threaten ours.

I wave my hand over my side, motioning them to follow me, but I’m the first to do a quick scan of evaluation.

I sharpen my gaze, looking at everything in my sight, and that’s when I see the culprit.

I see an eight-point buck, thick rugged antlers, and bright green eyes glow, glistening right back into my vision as I shine my light on him.

I scoff, lifting my lips into a curve on one side, and my sharp canines brush over my bottom lip as I squint.

A fucking deer.

I drop my rifle and relax my shoulders.

I let out a sigh of relief as it gallops away, disappearing into thick trees. I stand tall, re-adjusting my posture and running my hand through my beard, over my mask. It’s a fucking habit.

We don’t have to engage in a fight just yet. One of the worst things that could happen is getting caught off guard and ambushed.

“All clear,” I whisper into the mics.

I move forward a few steps in front of the teams and instruct them not to follow me.

“I’m going to do some recon.”

“Roger that,” my team whispers, synchronized, acknowledging me.

I walk for about a minute, pushing through thorny bushes and broken branches.

My shoulders bear the weight of my wandering mind. Everyone depends on me to get us through this.

I felt a strange sensation prickle on my neck, like freezing air blowing on me, which I have never experienced before. It sends goosebumps all over my skin, and I turn my head, expecting to see Paul messing with me. I’m already preparing myself to condemn him because he’s going against my orders. I told him to stay put with the rest of the team. He knows when to separate foolishness from work.

I turn my head around to be met with no one. I narrow my brows, confused, when I see that I’m alone and Paul is far away from me, talking to Kane and Lopez.

I shake my head, shrugging my shoulders.

Am I going fucking crazy? It felt like someone was breathing on my damn neck.

I need a cigarette.

I continue to move forward, stepping on small rocks underneath my boots, and that’s when I notice we’ve reached our destination.

We’re at the edge of a fucking cliff.

I look down. The tip of my boot is off the ledge as I look down. We’re hundreds of feet into the air. If we fall, we’ll die an instant death with our brains splattered across the floor, coming home in a closed casket.

Dirt and small molecular rocks fall off when I drag my foot back. I look into the distance. Wrath sparks into every single vein coursing toward my heart when I see a fucking army of the terrorists we’ve been looking for, but they’re not sleeping, no.

Fuckers are wide awake, and it looks like they’re planning something. They’re all gathered around each other as if they’re attending some meeting.

They all have their attention on one man, and my eyes light up like the Fourth of July.

I quickly grab my rifle, peeking through the scope, and sure enough, it’s him.

Omar stands tall, unaware his chest is right in the middle of my crosshairs. Our number one target.

He’s pacing back and forth as he speaks to his own army of a team that has followed in his footsteps.

My lungs constrict, and I’m eager to pull the trigger. I want to watch the bullet pierce his monstrous, evil body, making him fall to the ground like he deserves and take another soul. Our intelligence got it right, causing my eyes to darken as I celebrate internally.

But I can’t pull the trigger.

I can’t endanger my team’s lives by instigating chaos and a potentially deadly battle if I kill him. Unfortunately, it’s too far off a shot. We need to get closer and pick a better, safer area to execute the mission.

Rooker walks and stands to my right, looking the same way as I am through his rifle. I look at him through my mask, and I can sense his body language shift and go rigid when he sees Omar through his scope.

He looks up from his scope and his eyes crinkle with celebration, a sadistic grin underneath his mask.

“Bullshitting is over, boys. We’re here.” I smile wickedly into the mic, the words rolling off my tongue smooth like whiskey.