Read Online Little Dark Secret (Storm's Soldier Book 2) by Paige Notaro - Free Book Online

capacity. It would mean little time at my desk position and even less time off.
    It was good. I had no idea what to do but my duties anymore.
    I turned to finish the dishes. Behind, my father shuffled off towards the stairs, but then I heard him stop.
    I glanced back to see him lift a piece of paper. He ran a finger along what lay underneath. Then he continued on his way.
    I waited until he was clomping up the stairs, then went to check what he’d touch. He had enough photos of my mother around the house, though another would be no surprise.
    I lifted the sheet. It wasn’t my mother.
    It was Vaughn.
    He stood against some curtains in the house, wearing his Storm’s Soldiers jacket, his palm resting on a ‘White Pride’ banner. The picture had been taken poorly. His eyes glowed red. His lean, muscular face looked weak and wolfish. His jacket looked cheap.
    I could not stop looking at it.
    Once, I had seen this face almost every day, peering up at mine asking for help. He had eventually grown level with me, but even then he had looked to me for what to do.
    Once I had protected my brother from my father’s grief. I had not let him into my father’s room the entire month he lay on the bed.
    Then, I stopped. I became a conduit for what my father’s grief turned into. I passed it on unfiltered, made Vaughn listen instead of protecting him. The cause became the only thing uniting us.
    My throat felt like it had been shredded. I wanted to swallow, but I didn’t. It could set off something I couldn’t control.
    I covered the picture and stepped far away. My father visited it here like Vaughn was buried. But Vaughn wasn’t dead. He was out there.
    And despite the way he had left. Despite how my father had raged at Vaughn, he could not let his son go completely.
    Only family had that effect. You might disagree with who they’d become. But you stood by them, you did things for them that you didn’t believe in yourself.
    I would not abandon my father to this empty house full of sorrow, to the grief of this day. But for the first time, I let myself realize the truth:
    White nationalism was truly his cause. Not mine.
     
    ****
    I ate at the mess hall because I had nowhere else to go. Raynor was seated already, and he waved me over like I was a jet landing on an aircraft carrier. I had seen too much darkness today to handle his face in rejection, so I went over.
    “Hey man.” He clasped my hand and tried to pull me in, but just ended up rising a bit. “Where you been?”
    “It’s my day off,” I said.
    “Right, right.” He whistled and shook his head. “Man, it’s been wild here, let me tell ya.”
    I plugged my mouth with Salisbury steak and let Raynor talk about his day. Apparently, it was just a lot of training. The challenge seemed to stem entirely from keeping his mouth shut about his racial opinions during it.
    His voice drifted off, and I knew my peace was at an end.
    “So this next operation’s going down in a couple days right?” he asked, staring out in some misguided attempt to conceal our obvious conversation.
    “We’ll see,” I said.
    “Oh shit, is something wrong?”
    “It just doesn’t seem smart right now.”
    “Too dangerous, huh?”
    I gave him a long, somber look. “Right.”
    “Aw, damn. The guys were really looking to get involved quick.”
    “What guys?’
    He beckoned to someone with his hands. Suddenly, three other privates were clattering plates down around me. They were all like Raynor: lanky, milky-pale teenagers. I felt like a drug dealer in a high school.
    “Sup fellas,” Raynor said. “This is our top man here. Our Afghan war-hardened Aryan.”
    “Yo, it’s an honor, man.” The kid across from me slung out his hand. His face was lean and hungry. It reminded me a lot of Vaughn.
    I clapped Raynor on the back. “I need to take care of some other thing,” I said. “I have to go.”
    “Oh, yeah, sure, man.” Raynor was flailing around. “Of course, of course. Sorry for