The heavy oak doors of the cathedral slammed shut behind me, severing the joyous cheers of the wedding reception from the harsh reality of the outside world. The afternoon sun was blinding, mocking the absolute darkness that had just swallowed my soul. I stood on the concrete steps, my dress blues feeling heavier than a ninety-pound rucksack, my vision still swimming with hot, uncontainable tears. I had surrendered. For the first time in my thirty years of life, Sergeant Elias Thorne was walking away from a fight.
I took a step toward the street, desperate to disappear into the anonymity of the city, when a small, urgent voice pierced through the ringing in my ears