Chapter 1

I went to my girlfriend’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, only to be publicly humiliated by her cousin over a scar on the back of my hand.

“That scar is obviously from a gang shootout,” her cousin sneered. “Mandy, did you bring an ex-con home just to humiliate the family?”

Panic seized the room, and Mandy yanked her hand away from mine in pure disgust.

Her cousin flipped the dining table and called over a crew of thugs, demanding I be dragged to the police station.

“Scum like him needs to be taught a lesson!”

They stripped off my winter coat and tied me to the old oak tree in the front yard with thick ropes, forcing me to confess to being a mob enforcer.

I clenched my jaw and remained silent.

None of them knew that this scar was a medal forged in the fires of an overseas peacekeeping mission.

1

I stood outside Mandy’s front door, clutching two moderately priced gift boxes.

My palms were slick with sweat.

This was my first time meeting her parents.

Mandy opened the door and let her gaze sweep over the gift bags in my hands.

She said nothing, but her lips curled into a subtle smirk.

The living room was packed with people. Aside from her parents, a man in a loud floral shirt lounged on the sofa.

That was her cousin, Kyle Ward.

“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone,” I greeted them with a polite smile.

Mandy’s father gave a dismissive grunt and did not even bother looking me in the eye.

Her mother cut straight to the chase. “Mandy said you work in security?”

I nodded, setting the gifts on the side table. “I work as a consultant for a private security firm, mainly handling safety training.”

“Nice way of saying you’re a glorified mall cop,” Kyle scoffed. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, cracking sunflower seeds and spitting the shells onto the rug.

I offered an awkward smile and held my tongue.

For Mandy’s sake, I was willing to swallow a bit of disrespect.

My current job did not sound particularly glamorous on paper.

Yet I had my principles. The honors of my past belonged to my country, not to my personal vanity.

Dinner was soon served.

The atmosphere around the table remained suffocatingly tense.

Hoping to break the ice, I stood up and reached over to pour a drink for Mandy’s father.

My sleeve pulled back slightly with the motion.

The jagged, twisted scar across the back of my hand was instantly exposed beneath the chandelier.

It was a through-and-through puncture wound where the torn flesh had healed into a raised, ugly ridge resembling a centipede.

Kyle slammed his glass onto the floor.

Shards of glass and liquor exploded across the tiles.

Everyone at the table jumped in shock.

Kyle pointed a trembling finger at my hand, his eyes bulging. “I knew there was something shady about this punk! Look at his hand!”

Every pair of eyes instantly locked onto the back of my hand.

Mandy gasped and shrank backward into her chair.

Her mother clutched her chest in horror. “Good heavens! What is that horrible thing?”

Kyle sprang to his feet, planting a dirty boot on his chair.

“That’s a mob brand!” he barked. “My boys on the street told me only enforcers who have hacked people up and drawn blood carry scars like that!”

Spit flew from his mouth as he jabbed his finger toward my nose.

“Wyatt Cole, confess right now! How long were you locked up? Did you get that in a gang war?”

I frowned and tugged my sleeve down to conceal the mark.

“Kyle, you’re mistaken,” I said calmly. “That was from an old injury.”

“Mistaken my ass!”

Kyle roared at the top of his lungs. “What regular guy gets a scar like that? That’s from a combat blade! Mandy, did you drag a convicted criminal home to give your parents a heart attack?”

Mandy’s face turned paper-white.

She stared at me, her gaze filled with panic and revulsion.

“Wyatt, tell me the truth,” she demanded. “What did you actually do before this?”

I met her eyes. “I told you before. I was in the military.”

“The military gives you a scar like that?” Kyle sneered, cutting me off.

“You were probably a mercenary thug who sliced people up for cash!”

Mandy’s father shook with rage, pointing a trembling finger toward the entryway. “Get out! Get the hell out of my house! We don’t tolerate violent scum under our roof!”

I took a deep breath, fighting down the surge of anger in my chest.

“Sir, my record is completely clean. I got this scar while―”

“Shut up!”

Mandy let out a shrill scream and violently ripped her hand from my grasp.

She pulled away with such force that you would think she had touched a venomous snake.

“Wyatt, you disgust me! I can’t believe you lied to me this whole time!”

She backed away and hid behind Kyle.

She looked at me as if I were a dangerous stranger, or even a deadly enemy.

A bitter chill settled over my heart.

Was this truly the woman I had planned to spend the rest of my life with?

She was ready to condemn me over one fabricated accusation, without even giving me a chance to explain.

Seeing her reaction, Kyle grew even more arrogant.

He pulled out his phone, assuming the posture of an interrogator.

“You think you’re walking out of here? Not a chance!” he mocked. “There’s been a string of armed robberies in this neighborhood, and the suspect has a scar on his hand!”

He smirked nastily and blocked the front door.

“I bet you’re the culprit! You’re not leaving this house until you confess everything!”