Chapter 153

Chapter 153

In the days that followed, Jack began the long, grueling process of rehabilitation.

With the help of the Lighthouse's best medical team and equipment, his body was recovering at a speed that seemed almost impossible.

Two weeks in, he was already out of bed and moving around.

A month in, he could handle most of his rehab exercises on his own.

His body was like a finely engineered machine — built with a terrifying ability to heal itself.

Even the doctor in charge of his care couldn't help but marvel. Jack's physical makeup, he said, was nothing short of a medical miracle.

Only Jack knew the truth. It wasn't a miracle.

It was the result of years at the "Black Hawk" base — teetering on the edge of death over and over again, being pumped full of unknown drugs, and pushed through brutal training that remade him from the inside out.

He had survived. But his body bore the marks of that transformation forever.

That afternoon, Jack made his way alone to the base's tactical training room.

He needed to find himself again.

He pulled off his shirt, revealing a torso crosshatched with scars — and beneath them, muscles as solid as stone.

He started throwing punches.

One. Then another. Then another.

Sweat ran down his face, but he kept going like a machine that didn't know how to stop.

He needed this. Needed to burn off the restlessness and emptiness eating at him from the inside.

With Ronan gone, he had lost his purpose.

Like a ship that had been drifting at sea for too long — and suddenly found its lighthouse dark. No direction. Nowhere to go.

Lucy came to see him every day. She'd tell him what was happening in the outside world, give him updates on Radiant Energy Group, talk about the future she was planning for them.

A private island in Hawaii. Sunshine every day. Fishing. Nothing to worry about.

Jack would listen, and he'd smile.

But he knew. That kind of life wasn't for him.

A man whose hands were soaked in blood, who had crawled his way out of hell — what right did he have to a life like that?

Thud.

He drove his fist hard into the heavy bag. The whole thing swung violently from the impact.

He stopped, breathing hard, and walked over to the rest area nearby. He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face.

On the table sat an encrypted terminal that Alex had set up for him — one with a secure connection to the outside network.

He sat down, and almost without thinking, opened the encrypted inbox he hadn't touched in years. The one with his old codename: Ghost.

He hadn't used it since the day he walked away from Black Hawk.

He figured no one in the world still knew that address.

But when the inbox loaded, there it was — a single unread message, sitting quietly in the dark.

Sent three days ago.

Jack felt something drop in his chest.

A bad feeling.

He opened the email.

The message was short. Just one line.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me. But the war isn't over. — V"

Simple words. But they hit Jack like a bolt of lightning.

He shot up from his chair. Every muscle in his body went rigid. His eyes sharpened to a razor's edge.

That "V" made him think of someone.

Someone he had believed was dead — killed five years ago during a raid that was supposed to end everything.

The only woman ever to serve in Black Hawk. Codename: Valkyrie.

Vera.

No.

Jack shook his head, trying to push the thought away.

He had seen it with his own eyes. Vera had drawn fire to cover his escape — and been swallowed by the blast from a cluster bomb.

Nobody walked away from an explosion like that.

This had to be a coincidence.

Or a trap.

He forwarded the email to Alex immediately and told him to trace the sender's IP and identity.

Alex got back to him fast.

"Nothing. Whoever sent this is a top-level pro. Every trace has been wiped clean. It's like this email just... appeared out of thin air."

Out of thin air.

Jack stared at the words on the screen. A cold sweat crept down his spine.

If this was an enemy, what were they after? Just to remind him the war wasn't over?

If it was a trap, why no virus in the email? No location tracking?

The only explanation left was the one he didn't want to consider.

The person who sent this really was Vera.

She was alive.

And somehow, she seemed to know everything he had done over the past five years.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me."

What did that mean? Everything he had done — he did it to avenge his fallen brothers.

Unless...

A disturbing thought began to take root in Jack's mind, growing faster than he could stop it.