Chapter 54 Casing
It was half of the next day at the ballistic forensics.
The technicians worked in a tense, breathless silence that lasted almost thirty-six straight hours.
Only the cold clatter of metal trays, the sharp clicks of microscopes adjusting, and the relentless tapping of keys, and the sound of paper printing in the air.
Every second felt like a countdown someone had started and forgotten to stop.
General Richard paced like a caged predator.
He sat and stood. He was literally restless.
They already knew the bullet was from the shot that hit Captain Maverick, his son.
That knowledge alone made the technicians double their efforts and made the air too heavy for anyone to breathe properly.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity the door to the lab slid open. Three ballistic examiners stepped out together. Faces pale. Shoulders stiff.
Urgency carved into their expressions at what they were about to say.
“General!” they saluted sharply.
Richard didn’t bother saluting back.
His eyes locked on them cold, razor-focused, burning for answers.
“Report,” he patience already burned out with the hours of waiting. Funny to say General Richard was like his son once they set their mind to a case they never let it go until they find answers.
He looked calm on the surface but inside, something dark coiled and raged, begging to be unleashed.
The lead examiner stepped forward and extended a printed sheet, but Richard didn’t even look down. He didn’t have time to read any paper.
“We examined the size, class, material, and primer of the bullet,” the man began. “It came from a 5.56 × 45 mm NATO round also referred to as 5.6 mm.”
Richard’s brows creased then his eyes narrowed slowly.
“A military rifle?”
The examiner swallowed and nodded.
“Yes, sir. It’s military-grade ammunition. Used only by active service members.” His voice tightened. “We fired a comparison round with another 5.6mm. Even though the marks differ, the bullets matched in class and type.”
Richard’s jaw ticked sharply, his breath froze.
A military rifle, shot Maverick?
At a family hunt.
Where every gun was accounted for… and all of them were legal hunting rifles.
Someone smuggled government weaponry into a private hunting ground.
His voice dropped dangerously, lethal.
“All firearms present were hunting rifles. So how,” he stepped forward, looming over the examiners, “did a 5.6mm military round end up there?”
The second examiner licked his lips nervously.
“General… it means the shooter came prepared. They smuggled an unauthorized military weapon. Someone with access to restricted arms. Someone trained.”
A hammer blow to the chest.
This was no accident and not hunter’s mistake.
Someone executed a plan. Cut the CCTV feed. Timed the shot. Aimed to kill Maverick Richard.
Someone from their circle and someone who knew his exact location.
Richard’s fists clenched until the veins pushed against his skin.
The room felt colder when he spoke.
“Check the armory. All logbooks. Anyone who signed out a rifle...”
“Sir,” the lead examiner cut in cautiously, “the ammunition delivered after Captain Boyle’s death… all have serialized tracers. When the theft happened, the system was upgraded. If we find the shell casing, we can identify exactly whose weapon fired the shot.”
Richard’s eyes sharpened like a blade.
“So the shooter left their signature in that forest… without knowing.”
A thin, lethal smile touched his lips. He turned sharply toward the exit.
“I sealed off the entire hunting ground. Meaning the casing is still there.” His voice dropped into a growl.
“If we have to tear that forest down tree by tree… we will find it.”
He stepped out.
“Gear up,” he ordered, voice echoing through the corridor. “We’re hunting the bastard who hunted my son.”
His eyes burned, dark, furious. The same darkness Maverick carried.
Like father, like son.
At the hospital, security in front of Maverick’s had been changed so the others could go and rest.
Only family members were allowed to enter the room, anyone aside them needed clearance from General Edward. Since Richard left everything to him.
Killian had returned, worry etched into every line of his face. He knew how much Eva loved Maverick and how her entire world seemed to revolve around him.
Inside the room, Eva hadn’t moved from her seat.
Her hand never left Maverick’s.
Her eyes swollen and red never left his face.
“Eva,” Kiara murmured softly, she was worried about her daughter's state at this point. “You should go home. Freshen up. Eat something. Rest for a few hours. I’ll stay with him. Your mother-in-law is here too.”
Eva shook her head, her voice trembling.
“I won’t leave him…”
Her gaze drifted to Maverick’s face still handsome, still commanding, still powerful even in unconsciousness. Her breath hitched at how still he was.
“Child,” Eleanor said weakly from her bed nearby her blood pressure still unstable, her voice trembling, “if he wakes up, do you want him to see his beautiful wife like this… hmm?”
Eva’s mouth quivered. Her fingers tightened around Maverick’s hand.
But in the end… she broke.
She stood shakily, her heart dragging behind her, and allowed Killian to guide her out of the room.
The drive was painfully quiet. Killian kept glancing at Eva through the rearview mirror.
Her face, usually warm, bright, full of softness and endless smile was now swollen, streaked with dried tears.
She looked shattered… and she was crying over a man who wasn’t even faithful to her.
Killian had figured it out. The look Maverick exchanged with his sister-in-law.
The way he walked towards her when Heaven was in danger, if the butler hadn’t interrupted them.
And yesterday the way his unconscious hand still sought hers, protective even in how much he was bleeding.
How could no one else see it?
But Killian was only the Edward’s chauffeur.
A man whose words carried no weight in the world of generals, officers, and power.
Even though he already enjoyed privileges like a trusted position and access to private spaces he knew his boundaries. So he kept his observations to himself.
He reached behind the seat and picked up a cold soda can he had bought on his way to pick her.
“Eva,” he said quietly, “drink this. It’ll help calm your nerves.”
She didn’t move, she didn’t l blink she didn’t even look at the can.
Her eyes stared blankly ahead as if she could no longer see the world.
Eva thoughts were running wild what if he didn’t wake up was she going to be a widow, would she loose him? She hadn’t even truly had her husband.
She hadn’t enjoyed him, she hadn’t even made him love her.
And now the thought of living without him… felt like a death sentence.
Killian’s hand tightened on the steering wheel he pulled over. He popped open the can, the his loud in the suffocating silence.
Then he reached back and gently pulled her hand forward, wrapping her fingers around the cold metal.
“You need strength,” he said quietly. “If you want to keep crying, you’ll need it, young miss.”
There was something in the way he said it, too daring.
But Eva was drowning too deeply in her pain to notice…or maybe she did notice and simply didn’t care anymore.