Chapter 1: World of Change

Nicolaus focused on the blood trickling from his hands instead of the dead child cradled in his arms. Every time he glanced at the small, round face, his sister’s ghost appeared before him, blurred by the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

He had witnessed the carnage and the atrocities in Yemen, Sudan, Ukraine, Syria, and more. He’d seen the true evil of drug lords, human traffickers, and tyrants. The worst humankind offered ricocheted through his memories, a reminder of the four years he spent engaged in secret missions and covert operations. Yet, the weight of this child’s body cooling in his arms triggered more horror and heartache in him than all those memories combined.

Nicolaus wanted to make a difference. He wanted to save the innocent from the crusades of warmongers, who terrorized and threatened to rain hell upon the earth. But everyone had a limit. And he feared that, after four long years in these trenches, he may have finally reached his.

María, another in their elite squad, ran up to him, still carrying her assault rifle, and put her left hand on Nicolaus’s shoulder. “We did the best that we could.”

He nodded and took in the surrounding scene. The acrid smell of chemicals and decomposing bodies overwhelmed his senses, burned his nose, and stung his throat. Their “best” freed over forty human trafficking victims and brought down a notorious methamphetamine drug lord, so the mission was a success by most measures.

Nicolaus focused on Akari as she strode out of the Myanmar compound, silhouetted against the flames shooting out of the building. Her famous swagger and powerful posture dissolved his worries and reaffirmed his resolve.

Akari stopped in front of them, took in the young child, and recognized the pain in Nicolaus’s eyes. She scanned around the landscape, her eyes narrowing against the smoke.

“María, grab some of those lotus flowers in the ornamental pond.” As María hurried off, Akari lifted the little girl out of Nicolaus’s arms and laid her on the ground.

Across the driveway, an injured assailant pleaded, but Veton, otherwise known as Dodge, the fourth crew member, shot two rounds into the man’s skull. “Fuck you and your synthetic drugs.”

María returned, placed the lotuses on the little girl’s chest, and called Dodge over. Akari hugged Nicolaus tight before they all locked hands, closed their eyes, and said a prayer. “Amen.”

“Yo, we have to go lickety-split,” Dodge said, even as they moved out. “The dirtbag we exterminated has another facility like an hour away, and his brother will want retribution. We either face another sixty cockroaches or bug out and let the Federation clean them up.”

Nicolaus reloaded his gun while Akari unmuted her microphone to speak with the command center. “Four Shadows of Light, ready to roll out. Targets eliminated. Are all the friendlies safe and evacuated?”

“Affirmative,” replied the command center. “Everyone is aboard trucks, and air support is on standby for coverage. Follow the yellow brick road and get your asses to the extraction point now!”

Each member jogged to the field, their guns held tight against their ribcage . . .

María bursts into laughter and snorts at Dodge as they exit his jacked up, heavy-duty pickup truck. They survey the vibrant green front yard plastered with colorful birthday lawn decorations. The festive display of a HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARÍA VALKYRIE! sign with enormous letters, streamers hanging in the trees, and a big 26 sign dangling from the porch ceiling matches the flowers sprinkling the beds.

María keels over laughing when she sees a sign in front of her dad’s home, declaring You Must Be This Height to Enter.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Dodge says, tone as dry as the desert. “Your dad thinks he’s so funny. You’re how old? And Marcin still decorates like you’re sixteen.”

“You’re just jealous that he always outdoes your handiwork.”

He twitches his head, his brows furrowing as he considers her point. Since Julieta’s death—María’s mom—her father showered her with excessive attention and affection. As they enter the house, Dodge folds the sign in half, taking it from six to three feet so that at five-foot-five he’s allowed to enter. From the corner of his eye, he catches Marcin peeking through the window.

Did a party store vomit in María’s childhood home? Maybe. It seems her dad had spent hours cleaning, shopping, and decorating. Piñatas, balloon bouquets, and banners litter the small space.

“Dad? What is all this?”

“It’s not every day your favorite child turns twenty-six,” he says with a chuckle.

“Dad, I’m your only child.”

“See, my favorite, no competition.” He gives María an enormous hug and kisses her on her forehead. “María Valkyrie Landowski-Jiménez, you look more and more like your mamá every day.” His voice wavers on the last few words, like he’d shed tears any second.

He has a lot to be proud of. María is her mother’s daughter, a natural-born leader, tough as nails, cunning like a fox, and brilliant. He didn’t love the tattoos on her arms, but at least they showcased both her mom’s Mexican heritage and her dad’s Polish ancestry.

“So, what’s brewing for breakfast?” Dodge smiles from ear to ear.

Marcin smirks at Dodge and gives him a firm handshake. “Perogies, eggs, grits, and fruit.”

Dodge licks his lips. There’s nothing quite like the blend of Marcin’s cuisine.

María grabs Dodge’s hand and heads into the kitchen, where Nicolaus and Akari are already chilling and drinking some organic wine at the wet bar. Akari’s parents live next door to Marcin, so she and Nicolaus had coffee and a garden walk before venturing across the yard for the party.

They greet each other like they haven’t seen one another in ages, exchanging secret handshakes and tight hugs. Their families have been through tough times together, and they would risk their lives to save each other. Family is blood.