heap whiskey and spilled blood filled the air. My knuckles were raw, my face was b

mate I thought she was; she was a calculating opportunist. Wesley wasn't just a rival; he was the archi

the old Matthew Roberts to the groun

ty. He'd been a local politician after the war, respected by everyone. He died before I was born in this timeline,

membered. Inside, nestled on a bed of faded velvet, was a Congressional Medal of Honor. The highest

of duty, honor, and sacrifice. And it mentioned a name: General James Duncan. My grandfather' s commanding offi

f lost, son, find General Duncan. He'll know what to do. The honor of

ke

haunted by ghosts and lies. I was going to follow in my g

n my truck. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I had to find General Duncan. A few phone calls to t

When I finally arrived at the address, it was an imposing brick house in a quiet, tr

eyes were sharp and clear, and they sized me up in an instant. H

on?" he asked, his

out of place. But I held out the wooden box. "General Duncan? My name is Matt

gentle, and opened it. He stared at the Medal of Honor for a l

d my life more than once." He looked back at me, his gaze piercing. "I heard what happened to the Roberts

told him my story. I didn't tell him about the rebirth, just the betrayal. The faked death, the public

et for a long time. He looked f

ts a debt that this country can never truly repay. But it's also a b

in my own voice. "I want to do it for honor. My own. I

lems, son. It will chew you up and spit you out if your head isn't on stra

'm not looking for an escape. I

ve he must have seen in my grandfather. He stood up and walked to his

er said. But it doesn't open doors for you. It opens them for the man you have the

tion. To the United States Mi

u. You'll have to work harder than you've ever worked in your life. You'll hav

weeks I hadn't felt anger or despair, but a prof

aint, sad smile. "Now, go