Page 15 of Branded By Shadow
I go still.
Most people don’t ask. Or they ask once, hit silence, and learn better.
Talia looks like the type to ask again just to annoy death.
I don’t answer questions like that.
But she asks like my name matters. Not my patch. Not my size. Not the thing men see before they decide whether to run.
Me.
So I give it to her.
“Jayce.”
Something changes in her expression.
Like she expected a wall and found a door.
“Jayce,” she repeats, softer.
My name in her mouth does things to me I have no business letting it do.
I step back.
She notices.
“Why Shadow?” she asks.
I should tell her to wash her hands. Should call Ghost. Should check the window again.
Instead, I answer.
“Military.”
“That all?”
“No.”
She waits.
I look at the blinds, at the thin stripes of red neon cutting across the wall.
“I was good at moving unseen. Getting in, getting out. Watching from places nobody thought to look.” My jaw tightens. “Before that, I learned young how to be invisible.”
Her sass fades.
I don’t want pity. Pity sits wrong on my skin.
“I didn’t have family,” I say, keeping it flat. “Orphanage until I was six or seven. Then a couple took me in. Wasn’t adoption, not really. They belonged to a religious cult. Needed kids for labor and obedience. I left at eighteen and enlisted.”
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t interrupt.
Good girl.
The thought comes hard and low, and I shove it down.
“Went back years later,” I say. “Place was empty. Cult had moved or broken apart. Don’t know. Didn’t find anyone to save.”
