Chapter 7 - The Salute
The sharp slap of Nathan’s hand against the brim of his cover was the only sound that cut through the muffled weeping of Evelyn Harper and the shouting of the press corps in the background.
Claire didn't hesitate.
She raised her right hand, her fingers straightening with absolute precision, and returned her husband’s salute. Her split lip throbbed slightly, but her eyes were steady, clear, and immensely proud.
Nathan dropped his hand, stepping closer. He didn't say a word about the bruising on her cheek. He didn't need to; the men who had ordered the federal warrants and secured the arrest documents were already handling the accountability for that particular offense.
Instead, Nathan reached out, his large, calloused hand—the hands Evelyn had mocked as "grease-stained"—gently brushing against the fabric of Claire’s dress uniform, right over the silver star of valor where Sloane’s spit had landed hours before.
With a clean white handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, Nathan wiped the remaining moisture away, restoring the brushed metal to pristine perfection.
"You missed a spot, soldier," Nathan said softly, his voice carrying a warmth and gentleness that only Claire was privileged to hear.
A genuine smile broke across Claire’s face, the first real, unforced smile she had worn in months. "Thank you, General. I think the cleaning detail is finally done."
"Not quite," Nathan replied, turning his head slightly to look back at the chaotic scene behind them.
Federal marshals were currently leading Senator Richard Harper down the front steps in handcuffs, his head ducked low beneath a dark suit jacket trying to shield his face from the blinding camera flashes. Logan was shouting curses at a cameraman while being pushed into the back of a black transport van. Evelyn was being escorted into the foyer by two female officers to collect her personal belongings before the estate was seized by federal asset forfeiture.
As for Sloane, she had already slipped away through the side garden gate, her designer heels clicking frantically against the pavement as she fled into obscurity, leaving behind the wreckage of the empire she had tried to marry into.
"Where to now, General?" Claire asked, adjusting her dress cap under her arm.
May you like
Nathan offered her his arm—not as a superior officer to a subordinate, but as a husband to the woman who had stood beside him through every war, every storm, and every silence.
"Home, Captain," Nathan said quietly. "And this time, nobody’s locking the door."
