The General’s message had come through loud and clear. If he could torture an old farmer, he was capable of anything. They were facing an enemy with more men and more firepower. This man, this faceless enemy, was worse than Rosamond. Rosamond had been a knowable quantity. The General, however… He’d just made this conflict very, very personal. Dread settled like a stone in his belly. This was his fault. Instead of safeguarding the people that he loved, he’d put them in the crosshairs. He was only one man. All the training, skills, and expertise paled against an army. He could not protect them.
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