"Name?"


    "M."


    "Age?"


    "Twenty-nine."


    "Gender?"


    "...Female."


    "Where are you from?"


    "Kingsford."


    "And your destination?"


    "Sris City."


    "What were you doing in the forest?"


    "Our travel convoy was passing through when suddenly several vehicles broke down..."


    The soldier cut her off. "How many?"


    "...Four."


    "Go on."


    M took a deep breath.


    "There were thirteen of us left. We set up camp and waited for help... Two men showed up while we were waiting... Later that night, while I was on watch, one of them pulled a gun on me said he wasn''t alone, that I was his only target..."


    In the dimly lit cabin, several soldiers sat rigid and unsmiling behind a rough wooden table, staring at the woman across from them. She sat just as straight, her clothes caked in mud, exhaustion etched onto her face.


    It was M.


    While fleeing from the gunman, she''d stumbled straight into a military outpost. She''d barely set foot past the perimeter when a patrol fired a warning shot, forcing her to a halt. The sound of gunfire sent her into a panic-she''d almost tried to run again, and nearly got herself killed on the spot. Only a shoutedmand had stopped her.


    After she exined herself, the soldiers forced a hood over her head and marched her into this cramped room for interrogation.


    The questioning was relentless and exhausting.


    New faces rotated in and out, grilling her with the same questions over and over.


    If a single detail didn''t line up, the interrogation continued without end.


    It wore her down.


    M forced herself to remember every detail-why she''d left Kingsford, what brought her to Sris City, and especially everything that had happened tonight. They demanded a minute-by-minute ount. She didn''t dare leave anything out, or embellish a single fact.


    The tension was suffocating.


    She supposed she should be grateful—wandering into the outpost had probably saved her life. But somehow, things felt even worse now.


    She realized that trespassing on military property was no small offense. And being chased by an armed criminal right before blundering into a restricted area only made things moreplicated. No wonder the questioning was so intense.


    This round dragged on for what felt like forever. Eventually, a soldier gathered up the reports and left. M was bone-tired, but didn''t let herself rx, struggling to stay alert for whatever came next.


    She didn''t dare ask questions.


    Not that the soldiers inside were inclined to answer, anyway.


    People came and went, checking on things she couldn''t see. She had no idea how much time had passed when, suddenly, a tter of boots and voices erupted outside.


    "Good evening, sir!"


    M, half-dozing in her chair, snapped awake.


    The door swung open.


    A man strode in, dressed in an officer''s uniform. He was tall, sharply built, with striking features and a straight nose. His presence wasmanding like a de sheathed in calm restraint. His dark eyes were steady, not sharp, but radiated a quiet authority that spoke of years inmand.


    M froze, recognizing him instantly. She started to rise and speak, then thought better of it and sat up straighter instead.


    The man''s gaze lingered on her for a few seconds before he looked away and picked up her file from the table. He didn''t say a word, just gestured for the soldiers in the room to follow him out.


    After a long, tense silence, the door opened again. A soldier entered and announced, "M, you''re free to go. Someone will escort you out in a moment. Please make sure you keep your phone on and don''t leave the country for now." M nodded quickly, not daring to argue. Still, she hesitated before asking, "How long will this travel restrictionst? Exactly how many days?"


    The soldier ignored her and left.


    Soon, she was alone. She waited in silence until, after a few minutes, the officer everyone had called "sir" returned, this time closing the door behind him as his aide stepped out.


    He dragged a chair over and sat down facing her, his expression stern, his voice calm butmanding.


    "What brings you here?"


    For a moment, M was at a loss for words.


    She recognized the man in front of her. She''d only met him once, right after her wedding to Lysander, at a dinner at the old family estate. They hadn''t even spoken, but his presence was impossible to forget.


    He was Lysander''s cousin Carrol Montgomery.


    But it wasn''t just his rank that made him memorable. Even someone as ruthless and proud as Lysander-who never cared what his own father thought-showed genuine respect for Carrol. If anyone could talk sense into Lysander, it was this man. Not even the family patriarch could pull that off.


    It was a strange thing.


    Though Carrol and Lysander were only cousins, they were closer than brothers. Meanwhile, Lysander''s real brother, Eugene Montgomery, had always been treated like an outsider-sent away when they were kids, even given a name that didn''t match the Montgomery family tradition.


    The lines were clear.


    It was something M had always found odd in her years of marriage to Lysander but in the end, it wasn''t her ce to question.