At the head of the table stood a broad-shouldered, middle-aged man in his mid-forties. A vicious, jagged scar ran vertically down the left side of his face, a permanent souvenir from a war zone long forgotten by the public.
The moment the oak doors clicked shut and Kaya stepped into the light, the scarred man froze. His eyes locked onto her crisp white shirt, her tailored shorts, and the cold, unyielding authority in her gaze.
For two years, he had operated under the assumption that the greatest tactical mind he had ever served under was rotting in a grave.
The battle-hardened veteran's lower lip actually trembled. Completely abandoning his rigid military bearing, the middle-aged man lunged forward. Tears rapidly welled up in his eyes, spilling over his jagged scar as he threw his heavy arms around Kaya in a desperate, bone-crushing hug.
"Commander!" the man choked out, openly weeping into her shoulder. "We missed you!"
