After my third deployment, my wife filed for divorce. «I’ve met someone better,» she said …

I don’t want to go this time, Lily said, staring into her cereal bowl. That’s your choice, sweetheart, Roy assured her. You never have to go if you don’t want to.

Max looked torn. If Lily doesn’t go, maybe I should stay with her. I can ask Mrs. Harding to stay with Lily if you want to go, Roy offered, referring to Louis’s wife who had become a valuable support system for the family.

Before Max could respond, Roy’s secure phone buzzed, the line dedicated to his new role with the Military Family Security Unit. The text was from Agent Walsh, Resnick requesting meeting. Says has critical information.

Specifically asked for you. Roy’s jaw tightened involuntarily. He hadn’t seen Perry slash Pavel since the courtroom, though he’d reviewed countless transcripts of his interrogations.

The man was serving multiple life sentences in a maximum security federal facility, consistently trading information for small privileges. Everything okay, Dad? Max asked, noticing his expression. Roy forced a reassuring smile.

Just work. Finish up, or you’ll miss the bus. After seeing the children off, Roy drove to the secure facility where the MFSU operated.

In the years since its formation, they’d identified and neutralized three additional foreign intelligence operations targeting military families. Roy’s personal experience made him exceptionally effective at spotting the warning signs and patterns others might miss. Colonel Barrett, now Brigadier General Barrett and Director of the Unit, waited in the conference room with Agent Walsh.

He’s being transported from Colorado, Barrett explained. Arrives at 1,400 hours. Claims he has actionable intelligence on sleeper agents we haven’t identified yet.

Why now? Roy asked. And why me specifically? Walsh shrugged. Says he’ll only talk to you.

Could be legitimate. Could be psychological games. You know how he operates.

I do, Roy agreed grimly. Which is why I don’t trust this. Barrett leaned forward.

You don’t have to take the meeting, Donovan. You’ve given enough already. Roy considered declining.

His life had finally stabilized. The children were healing. His work was meaningful and allowed him to be the present father they needed.

Why reopen old wounds? But the thought of other families, other children, being targeted by operations like the one that destroyed his marriage strengthened his resolve. I’ll take the meeting. But on my terms, not his.

The secure interview room was deliberately austere. A metal table bolted to the floor. Two chairs, reinforced walls, and continuous monitoring.

Roy waited, reviewing the file one last time, when the door opened. Pavel Reznik, formerly known as Perry Wexler, entered in shackles, escorted by two guards. The year in prison had aged him.

His once charming smile replaced by a gaunt sharpness. Designer clothes exchanged for a prison jumpsuit. Staff Sergeant Donovan.

Reznik greeted him with a slight accent that had never been present in his Perry Wexler persona. Or is it lieutenant now? I heard you received a promotion. Let’s skip the pleasantries, Roy replied coldly.

You requested this meeting. Talk. Reznik studied him with calculating eyes.

How are the children? Max must be in middle school now. And little Lily, still afraid of thunderstorms. Roy’s expression remained impassive, though internally his anger flared at Reznik’s casual mention of his children.

You’ve lost the privilege of knowing anything about my family. This meeting ends now unless you provide actionable intelligence. Reznik smiled thinly…