BOUND BY BLOOD AND IRON

"Mom!" Tyler screamed from the back seat, lunging forward, but Marcus shoved him back with one massive arm.

Marcus’s demeanor completely transformed. The hesitation, the regret, the brooding silence vanished instantly, replaced by the lethal, calculated fury of a man who had spent a decade commanding men through violence. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, the truck’s tires screaming against the wet road as they tore forward through the night.

Marcus grabbed his two-way club radio from the console and pressed the receiver. "Bishop. Code Red. All units to the Vance residence on Willow Creek. Bring heavy ordnance. Sarah's house is breached."

"Copy that, Boss," Bishop’s voice crackled through static. "Rolling now. We're four minutes behind you."

In the passenger seat, Toby braced himself against the dashboard as the truck took a hairpin turn, gravel flying against the undercarriage. Tyler was weeping openly in the back, gripping the back of Marcus's seat, his arrogance entirely burned away by sheer terror.

"Is she dead, Dad? Is she dead?!" Tyler sobbed.

"Shut up and breathe!" Marcus barked, his eyes locked on the twisting mountain road ahead. "We don't know anything until we get there. If she’s alive, we pull her out. If she’s not... we end the Miller bloodline tonight."

Toby looked down at his own lifeless legs. Frustration burned in his chest like battery acid. He was trapped in this body, unable to run, unable to fight beside his father. He looked at Tyler in the rearview mirror. Tyler had working legs, athletic speed, strength—and he was curled into a ball, trembling.

"Tyler," Toby said sharply.

Tyler looked up, tears streaking his cheeks.

"Look at me," Toby commanded, his voice carrying an authority that startled both Tyler and Marcus. "Stop crying. Crying won't save your mother. When we get there, Dad needs someone to watch his back while he goes inside. You have two good legs. Are you going to sit in the dirt, or are you going to help him?"

Tyler stared at Toby, the boy he had mocked as weak just two hours ago, and saw an iron resolve that shamed him to his very soul. Slowly, Tyler wiped his face on his sleeve, his breathing slowing, his jaw setting hard.