Page 84 of Striker’s Rebel

The man turns me enough that I can see him. Gray at the temples. Expensive coat. Calm face. He looks like he should be walking into a boardroom, not standing outside Striker’s cabin with a gun on me.

His eyes move over my face.

“So you are June.”

My stomach drops.

Behind us, Striker’s voice comes faintly from the phone lying in the dirt.

“June?”

The man looks down, then kicks it out of reach.

I hope Striker heard enough.

He moves me farther from the cabin while smoke curls through the broken window.

“I wondered what had Sanders so distracted.”

I look at him.

“You know Striker.”

His mouth curves.

“I recruited him.”

That shuts me up.

“I saw what he could become before most people did. Sanders was sharp. Disciplined. Loyal.”

Something bitter slips into the last word.

“He could have gone far.”

“Could have?”

“He made a choice.”

The gun stays firm against my side.

“Years ago, Grim refused a withdrawal order. Command needed someone to answer for what followed, and I made sure they had one.”

My pulse kicks.

“Grim disobeyed. Grim acted alone. Grim was responsible. Simple stories are usually the easiest ones to sell.”

Jesus.

“And Striker?”

His expression changes.

Not much, but enough.

“I gave Sanders a way out. All he had to do was confirm the official version. Say he disagreed with Grim. Say he tried to stop him. He could have kept his record clean and walked away with his career intact.”

He refused.