He paused, running his finger along the knife's sheath. But sometimes the fight comes to you. Those are from when you were a SEAL, Tobias asked, picking up the trident insignia carefully. 16 years of service, special operations, things I've never talked about, missions I'll never discuss. Jerome's voice grew firm.
I buried that part of myself because I thought it would give us a better life. But these people, Danner, Ames, all of them, they're not going to stop. They tried to burn us alive, son. Tobias's jaw tightened. So, what are we going to do?
Not we, me. Jerome pulled out his phone showing a contact photo, the same man from the deployment picture. Marcus Boyd. We served together, saved each other's lives more times than I can count. He's in cyber security now.
One of the best hackers I know. You're going after them. Tobias's eyes widened. They deleted evidence. Buried complaints.
Terrorized families. All of it's in their servers somewhere. Jerome began checking the comm gear. Muscle memory taking over. Marcus can find it.
Attorney Ree will handle the legal side. Make sure everything we uncover is admissible in court. But that's dangerous, right? Breaking into police computers. Jerome looked his son in the eyes.
Everything worth fighting for is dangerous. But I trained for years to handle exactly this kind of mission. Gathering intelligence, exposing corruption, protecting the innocent. They thought they were targeting some weak civilian. They didn't know they were waking up a warrior.
Inside, Ree was already up making coffee. He nodded gravely as Jerome laid out the plan. I'll file the official complaints. Handle the press. Keep everything appearing legitimate on the surface.
Jerome's phone buzzed. Marcus responding to his message. A simple reply. On my way. Like old times, brother.
The morning passed in careful preparation. Jerome cleaned his gear while Ree made calls. Vanessa helped Ila sort through donated clothes while Tobias watched his father work, asking careful questions about his service years. Why didn't you ever tell us? Tobias finally asked.
About what you really did? Jerome paused in his work. Because I wanted you to grow up believing in peace. Believing that violence wasn't the answer, he sighed heavily. But sometimes, son, peace isn't an option.
Sometimes you have to fight back. Not with blind rage, but with precision, with purpose. By afternoon, Marcus arrived, tall, lean, carrying several laptops and monitoring equipment. The two men embraced like brothers. "Heard you needed some technical support," Marcus said, eyes hard.
Nobody burns my brother's house down. They converted Reese's home office into a command center. Marcus began setting up surveillance equipment while explaining the digital aspect of their mission. Police servers are protected, but they're not NSA level. We find the gaps, extract the evidence, compile it all clean, Jerome added.
Everything has to be clean. No traces back to us. Just like Kandahar. Marcus nodded. Remember the intel extraction?
Different enemy. Same principles. As evening approached, Jerome stood in the guest bathroom staring at his reflection. He pulled on tactical gloves, feeling the familiar grip. His body had changed over the years, softer, heavier, but his eyes held the same focused intensity from his service days.
You tried to erase a soldier, he whispered to his reflection. Now you've got a war. His phone glowed on the counter, displaying Marcus's message. Systems ready. Operation is go.
Jerome studied himself one final time. The man in the mirror wasn't the same person who' grilled ribs in his backyard days ago. That man had died in the flames with his house. What emerged was something older, harder, a warrior reborn from the ashes of his former life. The phone's glow cast shadows across his face, highlighting the resolve in his expression.
Years of training, combat experience, and tactical knowledge surged through his mind. They had awakened something they couldn't control, unleashed a force they never expected to face. His reflections stared back at him, dangerous, focused, ready for war. The basement hummed with electronic energy as screens cast a pale blue glow across Jerome's face. Cables snaked between laptops and monitors, creating a web of digital surveillance.
Marcus sat hunched over the main keyboard, his fingers dancing across keys with practiced precision. "How's that firewall looking? " Jerome asked, leaning closer to study the scrolling code. Marcus grinned, not taking his eyes off the screen. These county systems child's play compared to what we dealt with overseas. Remember that Serbian network?
Focus, brother, Jerome said, but smiled at the memory. We need everything they tried to bury. Already got something. Marcus pointed to a stream of data. They used basic deletion protocols.
Amateur hour. The files are still in the system architecture, just hidden beneath surface directories. Jerome pulled up a chair, watching as Marcus deployed the militaryra decryption key. A souvenir from their service days. The program carved through the police department security like a hot knife through butter.
There, Marcus whispered as folders began populating the screen. Body cam archives, internal affairs, payment records. Jerome's jaw tightened as he clicked through the first video file. The footage showed Danner's camera perspective from the barbecue. Clear, damning evidence of the assault.
They didn't even properly delete it, just buried it deep enough that no one would look. Typical bureaucrat mindset, Marcus muttered, copying files to an external drive. They think hiding something is the same as destroying it. They worked methodically through the night, uncovering layer after layer of corruption. Complaint records stretched back years.
Dozens of families targeted, evidence suppressed, witnesses intimidated. Payment logs showed suspicious transfers to officers involved in misconduct cases. "Look at this," Jerome said, opening an audio file. Captain Ames's voice filled the basement, crisp and cold. Keep that neighborhood quiet, Danner.
I don't care how you do it. These people need to learn their place. If anyone gives you trouble, handle it. The department will back you up. Marcus whistled low.
That's your smoking gun right there. There's more. Jerome played another clip, a phone call between Ames and the police union representative discussing how to lose the body cam footage from the barbecue incident. Footsteps creaked on the stairs. Attorney Ree appeared carrying fresh coffee.
His eyes widened at the wall of evidence displayed across the screens. "My God," he breathed, setting down the mugs. "This is bigger than we thought. Systematic targeting, coordinated coverups, all of it documented, Jerome said, gesturing to the drives. Every deleted file, every crooked deal, every abuse of power.