Amara's POV
The line cut off.
Chris's words still echoed in my ears.
"No one is permitted to touch or hurt her except me."
I stood motionless in the command tower, hands clenched at my sides, heart pounding harder than it ever had in battle. The armor I wore—symbolic of my rank, of my strength—suddenly felt heavier. Like guilt forged into steel.
I wasn't angry. I wasn't even hurt.
I was… shaken.
Because I wasn't used to being questioned. Not by him.
Not by the only man whose approval I had ever chased like air.
Everything I had done—every missile I launched, every agency I shut down, every alliance I dismantled—I did for him. For his name. For his empire.
For Chris.
I remembered when he first appointed me. Years ago. When the world still feared the old names and doubted the rise of the Blackwoods. When Skylar still walked beside him, proud and perfect in her tailored dresses and subtle power.
Back then, I was just a shadow at the table. A ghost in strategy rooms.
Chris saw me.
He gave me purpose. And I gave him loyalty.
Unshaken. Unquestioned.
Until today.
I walked slowly to the viewing platform again, where the aftermath of the BAM operation still played out on emergency feeds and chatter. Officers whispered, news anchors panicked, and civilians scrambled.
But the only sound I heard was his voice.
She's not just another rebel. She's the mother of my son.
My jaw tightened.
Skylar had every chance to stand beside him. She had the position, the power, the legacy. And what did she choose?
The people.
I hated her for that. Not because she betrayed Chris—but because she hurt him. Because her rebellion twisted the man I admired into someone harder, colder… lonelier.
And still… she lived. Because he said so.
A junior officer approached cautiously, reading my mood like a landmine.
"Commander Amara," he began, "shall we initiate cleanup protocol on the secondary targets?"
I nodded slowly. "Yes. But pull back the drones near Skylar's last known perimeter. We don't touch her."
He blinked. "Ma'am?"
"You heard me," I said quietly. "No contact. No shadowing. She's not to be harmed. Orders from the top."
He saluted and left quickly.
I stood there a moment longer. Watching the city, feeling the conflict boil inside me.
I was Chris's sword.
But today, I wasn't sure if I'd been too sharp… or if I had aimed in the wrong direction.
Still—if she crossed the line again… if she tried to destroy him again—no order, no title, no history would stop me next time.
Because I may follow Chris's voice.
But I'd still protect him with my own.
Even if it meant going to war with his heart.