Loyalty is my Honor

Sins of the past

Word count 1746
I woke up, desperately hoping it was all just a terrible dream. But as reality sank in, I realized it wasn't. I was alone, with nobody by my side. I stood up, wiping the blood off my hands and tossing away the empty bottle of whiskey. My head throbbed, and I felt sick to my core, but I just sat on the couch, trying to figure out how to mend things with Enid and how to break free from Shadow Company. My mind raced, searching for a solution, until I finally reached a breaking point. It was time to let go and become a ghost, to escape to the Yukon or Alaska, and live a solitary life in a cabin, away from all the pain and hurt this world had to offer.

Novak: "Everything alright with Enid Ernst?"

Ernst: "No, it's not. We broke up. She found out about what I did."

Novak: "What did she find out? About you and Shadow Company?"

Ernst: "She found out about Las Almas."

Suddenly, a flashback of what happened in Las Almas flooded my mind. I remembered it vividly, as if it had happened just yesterday.

Philips briefed me in the Black Hawk helicopter on our way there. It was late at night, pouring rain, and we were all dressed in heavy combat uniforms. I knew what awaited us would be a bloodbath. "Ritter, we've located the sons of bitches who killed your family. As soon as we arrive, we're going to storm the village and make them pay. Are you ready? It's not too late to turn back," he said, his voice tinged with hatred. I replied, consumed by rage and hatred, "I'm ready. It's time to show those subhuman scum that they can't mess with Shadows. We'll make them regret ever setting foot in San Diego."

"You heard him, boys. Ritter is out for blood. Let's make sure he gets it. Time to show them the difference between the military and Shadows. When we're done, they won't know where to look for the fucking stain," Philips exclaimed, his enthusiasm palpable.

The Black Hawk landed, along with four others, and an entire battalion of around 200 troops disembarked, storming the village and sealing off all exits with guards and machine gun-mounted Humvees. We had the entire village of 700 people trapped, quickly securing the perimeter with barbed wire. Philips took charge, ordering the squads to break down doors and round up anyone associated with the cartel. "Alright, Shadows, everyone who has worked with the cartel, I want them detained and arrested," Philips calmly declared. Intuitively, I asked the question on everyone's mind, "What about women and children? And how do we define 'working with the cartel'?" Philips replied, "Even the women and children. I said everyone. If they so much as breathed next to a cartel member, detain them." With those words, the entire battalion was given the green light to detain everyone.

Upon receiving the green light and the location of the man who killed my family, I rushed to his house, with a Kepa squad forming up behind me. We stormed the house, blowing the door open and throwing a flashbang. The two kids and their mother were in the living room. I aimed my rifle at them and commanded, "Get on the fucking ground." The mother and daughter complied, but the son attempted to fight. I swiftly struck him with the butt of my rifle, rendering him unconscious. I located the father, who was trying to load a pistol, but I grabbed his arm and put him in a hammerlock hold I escorted him outside onto the street, positioning him and his family on their knees, facing the wall. As Philips spoke over the radio, his voice calm and composed, the words sent a chill down my spine. "We have the entire town detained and on their knees. Remember, they're not innocent. These people have caused drug wars, epidemics, and, most importantly, they killed a shadow. Ritters' family, show no mercy." With a cold determination, I replied, "Gladly."

I dismissed Kepa squad, and they complied, aware of my intentions towards the man and his family. I reached down to my thigh holster, drawing my Beretta with purpose. Racking the slide back forcefully, the loud metallic sound echoed through the air, causing the family to begin pleading for their lives. The father, in particular, begged, "Please, sir, don't do this. Just take me. Leave my family alive. I'll tell you everything. They have nothing to do with the cartel." Lowering my pistol, I retrieved a photo from my pocket. It depicted me and my family on the day I graduated from Marine boot camp, a day filled with pride. "Do they look familiar to you?" I asked, seething with disgust and disdain for the man.