A waitress told me to cover my scars and leave because I was disturbing the other guests. She didn’t see the faded tattoo below my elbow — or know what it meant.
Marcus Thorne’s thumb moved across his phone screen with the precision of someone who had made life-or-death calls before and knew exactly how much time he had. “Command duty officer.” “This is Lieutenant Commander Thorne. Patch me through to the base commander’s office. Priority one. This is not a drill.” The silence on the other…
