The radio’s echo haunted the silence long after it died.

That voice—polished, smooth, and venomous—wasn’t a ghost from my past. It was the embodiment of it.

Elena stared at me, waiting for an answer I didn’t want to give. Her hand was still on mine, trembling slightly as the boat sliced through the gray morning mist. The horizon ahead looked endless, but to me, it was a cage.

“Who was that?” she asked again, quieter this time.

I didn’t answer immediately. I needed the space of a few breaths to steady myself. To dig through the memories I’d buried beneath missions, orders, and the sound of gunfire.

“His name,” I...