The Return: The Legacy Series, #4

By Melissa Delport

A year ago, one woman's sacrifice paid off. Her Legion overthrew a tyrant. They fought for freedom and emerged victorious. This woman did not defeat the darkness alone. She did so with the unflinching devotion of two brave men, and, when it was over, she was faced with an impossible choice. 

Rebecca Davis is alive and well, while out in the Rebeldom a ghost continues what she started. A man who lives in the shadows, along with a loyal team who serve him willingly. 

I am a member of that team - an elite squadron charged with a secret mission. If we fail, it could undo everything Rebecca Davis achieved.

But this is not Rebecca's story. It is mine. My name is Morgan Kelly and my journey begins now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Delport
• Release date: Mar 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386301905

Book preview

prologue

It’s been a year since I chose to leave with Archer and Reed, to join a new squad, with a new purpose. Before, we had been soldiers with a single purpose: to bring our enemy to its knees and eradicate the threat that kept our society imprisoned. Now we are saviours, working in secret to save as many souls as we can. The Rebeldom is still a wild and dangerous place, but there are survivors, people who need us. It’s an honourable task, one which has tamed the vengeful beasts we became when Rebecca needed us to be exactly that.

Reed left to save her from being torn apart, sacrificing his own happiness so that she could build a life with Aidan without the burden of having to choose and having to live with her choice. Archer’s motives for leaving were altruistic, borne of the need to help people. I left, simply because I had no reason to stay.

The life we’ve chosen is far from easy but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’ve found a new family, a new home, with people who care for me and who I would die to protect. We’ve all changed but I’ve changed the most. I’ve shed the selfish immaturity that I didn’t even recognise until my brother died for it, and I’ve tried to make amends for the mistakes that I’m still ashamed of. I’d like to believe I’ve succeeded. I’d like to believe that when he looks at me, he sees a woman who would go to the ends of the earth for him, for her friends. Sometimes, when his eyes find mine, I think he knows. At other times, I think he sees only a weak echo of the woman he left behind – a shadow of what he’s been searching for.

I still make mistakes, but I’ll never stop trying to be better, to be someone they can all be proud of. I’ll never stop trying to make up for betraying them. A betrayal that was fleeting, but catastrophic. I can only hope that if my brother is watching me from above, I make him proud.

Hopefully he can see the good I’ve done this past year and that I’ve finally grown up. It doesn’t matter how much time passes, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of him. 

chapter 1

There are fresh flowers on Michael’s grave. Not just any flowers - roses. Even now, a year after Adam Vincent was sworn in as the President of the Free United States of America, roses are a rarity. Adam’s focus is on fauna, not flora. He puts people first, all people, whether inside or outside of the core cluster of our community. There are no fences between us, but there are still so many who are lost in the barren lands. Unlike his predecessor, Eric Dane, or Eric’s even-more-evil successor, Kenneth Williams, Adam is selfless. His compassion knows no bounds and he is determined to save as many souls as he possibly can, which requires food, not flowers. If you can’t eat it, Adam has no inclination to grow it. Roses rank very low on his list of priorities. Still, there are those who believe in the beauty of preservation and, in keeping with his universal freedom policy, Adam does not oppose their growing of the rare bloom, so long as it doesn’t diminish the resources dedicated to saving lives.

The roses are white. Pure, simple, delicate, they are bound with a ribbon of the same deep blue as the winter sky. They send up a sweet fragrance that Michael would’ve insisted wasn’t manly enough, but which he would secretly have loved. To be clear, I have nothing against the roses themselves, and I know that the gesture is as sincere as it is thoughtful. Still, I have to supress the urge to snatch them up and shred them into soft, white confetti, but I don’t, because the person who put them here is crouched beside a different grave only a few feet away, talking in a low, hushed tone to the man she misses most in the world. A man who, unbeknown to her, isn’t actually dead. The body beneath the dirt at her feet isn’t Reed McCoy’s.

I heave a sigh and lay my hand on the headstone of Michael’s grave.

I’ll see you soon, brother, I whisper.

There’s no avoiding her. I have to walk right by her to get out of the cemetery, so I’ll have to at least say hello. Rebecca’s back stiffens as I approach. Years of looking over her shoulder have made her alert to the slightest movement and she is instantly suspicious. When she turns to face me, her face relaxes, the steely silver fading from her eyes, the corners of her mouth lifting into the softest semblance of a smile.

Hi Morgan.

Rebecca. I nod in greeting. How are you?

Good... I’m good, thanks. Her lips lie while her eyes speak the truth, sadness reflected in the grey. I don’t blame her. It’s been over a year and she still can’t shake the pain despite how happy she is with Aidan, despite how much she’s achieved. Rebecca Davis led the revolution that saved us. I’m aware of the sacrifices she’s made and I respect and admire her, but the fact remains that Rebecca and I have always had a tumultuous relationship.

Have you been back long? Rebecca asks.

I just got in this morning. We’re only here for a briefing. We’re leaving tomorrow.

Chicago is our nation’s capital – it has been since Eric Dane’s rule - and Rebecca and Aidan settled here after the NUSA war. I only visit every few months when an assignment brings us close to the city, to visit Michael’s grave, or, like now, when Adam calls us in for an official debriefing.

Then I guess you won’t be here for the ceremony, Rebecca says. It’s less than two weeks away.

Sadly not. I would’ve loved to have been there, I finish lamely. I had heard rumours that Aidan and Rebecca were getting married soon, but none of six squad had particularly wanted to discuss it in front of Reed.

Good for her, was all he had said when he learned of the impending nuptials. Then he had drunk three quarters of a bottle of Scotch, gone for a piss and passed out. Kwan had found him the following morning, butt-naked and blue with cold in the middle of a nettle field. Archer had pointed out that he was handling it quite well, all things considered. The wedding hadn’t been mentioned again.

I’m sure Kwan will be over to see you before we leave, I say, to fill the uncomfortable silence. He’s devastated to be missing the wedding. It’s not lip service. Kwan is devastated, but he has decided that, in this instance, Reed’s need is greater and that it would probably be a good idea for us to be far away from Chicago next weekend. Archer too, I add. I’m sure he’ll stop by later. He wanted to spend some time with his mom before the meeting.

I wondered why Henry left the clinic early, she says. I should’ve known Archer was in town. It’s funny how distant we’ve all become considering what we went through together.

Her eyes are drawn back to the gentle mound of the grave and I scuff my feet in the dirt, focusing on my boots so that she doesn’t see the guilt etched on my face. My thoughts stray to Reed, who is a few miles outside of town, and, as if drawn by my thoughts, she speaks again.

How are you enjoying being part of... what is it again – six squad?

Six squad, yeah. It’s good. We make a good team.

Between you, Kwan and Archer, I’m not surprised. I’m taken aback at the compliment, but she continues, oblivious. I don’t think I know the other three people in your unit?

My head spins. Rebecca resigned from military duty after the NUSA war and withdrew completely from that life. As far as I know she hasn’t even visited the military headquarters since and she has never asked me about my squad before.

You don’t, I stammer. Adam assigned them to us.

Are they here with you? I’d like to meet them.

What?

Um, no. They’re still out in the Rebeldom.

She smiles at the old term which the resistance used when the rebels were gathering outside of the NUSA fences. Technically, since Adam removed the fences which segregated NUSA from the rest of the country, there is no Rebeldom anymore, but old habits die hard.

I still call it that too, Rebecca says.

I shrug. It’s still a wasteland.

Did Kwan say where he was headed?

I shake my head, relief flooding through me now that the conversation is moving back to safer territory.

No. But he’s probably looking for you by now.

Kwan, our elite squadron’s leader, as far as the rest of FUSA is concerned, has always been close to Rebecca. He trained her himself, which, when combined with her strength, speed and ability to heal, had created a weapon unlike any other. Rebecca is one of very few Legion soldiers with the Power of Three, but it is her uncanny ability to inspire which made her the perfect person to lead the Legion.

When we originally formed our team, it was only Reed, Archer and myself. Reed had faked his death and his plan was to continue working with Adam in secret, as part of an elite squadron which reported only to the President himself. Archer had offered to accompany him and, with nothing to keep me here but memories of what I had lost, I hadn’t hesitated to do the same.

Kwan had stayed behind to help Rebecca adjust to her new life, but, after three months, assured that she was happy with Aidan, he had joined us along with two new recruits Adam had allocated to our team.

"I see you chose the Sai, Rebecca says, rousing me from my memories. Her gaze falls to the sheaths at my hips, housing the twin-pronged weapons. When did he decide you were ready?"

A couple of months ago.

Congratulations. She means it. As a fellow student of Kwan’s she understands how much it means to me. Kwan only allows his students to carry a traditional weapon once he deems them worthy, in both body and mind. Rebecca had favoured the Bo staff, but I find the fork-like knives beautiful and handle them with a grace that belies my strength.

Have you had to use them yet?

I nod and her eyes wander toward where the boundary fence used to be before Adam had it torn down. Deranged?

Yes. We found a nest of cannibal groups in Southern California. The further we venture into no-man’s land, the worse they get, almost animalistic. Most think we’re food. I don’t think they can be rehabilitated but Kwan... I stop myself, exhaling a steady breath. Well, you know Kwan.

He’s a good leader.

Yeah. I look back at my feet and shove my hands into the pockets of my combat pants. Rebecca is dressed in faded jeans and a tank top, a simple cardigan protecting her from the chill. It’s the same kind of attire I’ve seen her in every time we’ve come back. She looks so unthreatening, so ordinary, that I can’t help but wonder if this is how she would have been if she had never married Eric Dane and enlisted with the rebels.

Adam’s been talking about extending the territory, she muses, so deep in thought that I almost get the feeling she’s not talking to me anymore. Since he passed the anti-sterilisation Act there’s bound to be a baby boom coming. The population will outgrow the original states in a few years.

Having absolutely no interest in babies, I have nothing to say to this. I’m also puzzled as to why she feels the need to carry on a conversation with me. It’s not as if we were ever friends, and her sudden re-interest in military matters is disconcerting. 

Morgan? A familiar voice calls and we both turn to watch as Aidan Moore approaches. Tall and blond, with the kindest brown eyes I’ve ever seen, Aidan is the father of Rebecca’s son, Alex. Together they are also foster parents to Reed’s daughter, Brooke. I didn’t know you were due back! Aidan says, giving me a warm hug that practically lifts me off my feet before moving to Rebecca’s side. He is so attuned to her feelings, to her needs, that for a second, just a second, I can see why she chose him over Reed. No one had expected that. Well, no one but Reed himself, of course. If there was one person who knew Rebecca better than Aidan, it was Reed. And he had known, somehow, where her heart truly lay. His selflessness had allowed her to live without guilt, while he suffered the agony of living without the love of his life and never knowing his daughter.

It’s nice to see you, Aidan, I say. It’s easier to talk to him than Rebecca. Aidan is everything Reed is – brave, selfless, kind – but to me, he is somehow a watered-down version, a weaker echo, a shadow self, more steadfast and dependable, but less charismatic.

Did Bex tell you the good news? he asks, pulling her closer to him. She fits perfectly under his arm, as though they are two parts of the same whole.

I already knew about the wedding, I say. News travels fast – even in the Rebeldom.

Not that news, Aidan replies, catching Rebecca’s eye.

There’s more? I raise my brows as Rebecca smiles, looking more like her old self.

She’s finally accepted Adam’s long-standing offer, Aidan announces proudly. My eyebrows shoot even further up, disappearing behind the loose curls that have escaped my ponytail.

You’re coming back?

Rebecca nods, and it dawns on me why she wanted to know about six squad. I try not to let my apprehension show as she elaborates. 

There’s not much to it anymore, now that Adam’s democracy is established, she admits, but yes, I’m coming back to lead the Legion.

About time, too, Aidan concurs. You’ve been bored out your mind for far too long. He gives me the ghost of a wink. I told her she can do whatever she likes, so long as she marries me first.

I haven’t been bored, she laughs, shoving his shoulder teasingly. And don’t get too cocky. I may just change my mind about marrying you.

Liar. He drops a kiss on her forehead. You’re bored. I would know, I’m the one who’s had to put up with you this past year. And as for calling off the wedding, what do you think your father would say?

Their affectionate ease with one another is plain to see and I feel a pang of loneliness wash over me.

Well, congrats, I say. I mean it, but I can’t get out of here fast enough. I better go, I don’t want to be late. Good luck with the wedding. Have a slice of cake for me.

We will, Aidan promises. Bye, Morgan.

Rebecca smiles and I give them both a small wave. When I reach the cemetery gate I glance back over my shoulder. Aidan still has his arm around Rebecca’s shoulder. She fits snugly up against him, and, as I watch, Aidan’s lips brush across her forehead. I heave a sigh and stamp my feet to free the dirt from my boots.

The debriefing with Adam doesn’t take long. Kwan does most of the talking, updating him as to the finer details of our last few successful extractions and the nest we discovered in California, and marking out inaccessible roads on the map provided. Adam is determined to establish access to every corner of the States and he relies on all teams to report back regarding any bad road conditions. Archer, who was late to the meeting, is looking a little green around the gills. His mother, Sienna, is an alarmingly capable woman, but she’s a god-awful cook. 

Adam explains how pleased he is that Rebecca has finally reconsidered. Kwan agrees, praising Rebecca’s leadership and they mutually celebrate that the Legion will be stronger for her presence. I examine my nails, picking at the dirt embedded beneath them and fight the fear of what this means for six squad. How long will Reed be able to keep his identity a secret with Rebecca back in the game? I can feel a headache coming on just thinking about it, so instead, I let my thoughts drift back to Michael. He would be eighteen now. Old enough to legally drive one of the Humvees he was so obsessed with. Old enough to be formally inducted into the Legion – FUSA’s official military force, comprised of Gifted soldiers, civilians and members of Adam’s former soldiers, known as the Ordinary. When NUSA was still our enemy, General Harrison Ross had been all for inducting Michael despite his youth, but I had told him where he could stick his suggestion. Little good it did – it certainly didn’t save my brother and Harrison’s grave lies only a few sites down from Michael’s. The General had refused to leave the Lakeside Military Academy when Kenneth Williams’s soldiers attacked and he had perished alongside many of his men.

My memories of Michael are painful, laden with guilt and regret. I had tried to protect him but I had failed miserably. It was your fault, my subconscious whispers evilly. I want to deny it, but I can’t. I abandoned the Legion, buying into my father’s lies - into Kenneth Williams’s lies. I told them where she was. If I hadn’t, Michael would never have been anywhere near the NUSA soldiers who came to apprehend Rebecca. He would never have been killed in the fight that followed.

I shake my head, defying my own self-persecution.

We’ll leave in a couple of hours, Kwan tells me as we leave the debriefing room. Are you still going down to the jail?

Yes.

You sure you want to do this?

I nod.

I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you back at the rendezvous point.

The Cook County Jail is the only prison in the whole of FUSA. At present, the number of inmates is eighty-one, which is two hundred people less than those incarcerated a year ago, just after the Legion defeated Kenneth Williams. Many of the people who were arrested in the aftermath of the NUSA war were released after accepting the public vote and pledging their allegiance to the new order. Adam’s leadership is a peaceful one, but there is still the odd crime. It doesn’t matter where in the country a person is arrested, once they have been tried they are brought here to Cook County to serve their time.

As my footsteps echo through the halls I can’t help but think of Adam. His philanthropy and his innate belief that there is good in everyone is admirable. It is his intention to rehabilitate all eighty-one souls within this prison. I admire his dedication, but I cannot share his optimism. There may be eighty-one souls in this building, but only eighty have any hope of being saved. There is one man here who doesn’t deserve redemption.

I sign in at the desk and a sleepy-looking security guard waves me through the electronic door. The floors are clean, if a little drab, and I take my seat behind the glass window with a resigned sigh. When the man on the other side shuffles to his seat I stare fixedly down at my shoes. Only once he is seated do I look up and lift the handset. He’s already holding his. His eyes, once a deep green like my own, seem to have lost all their colour and are as washed out as the grey of his face. His hair looks as though someone upended a bottle of talcum powder over it.

Hello Morgan. His voice is haunted and sand-papery, as if he hasn’t used it since the last time we spoke.

Simon. I grip the handset firmly in my hand.

I wish you wouldn’t call me that.

Tough. How are you?

As well as can be expected.

You look good. He tries to smile but it’s as if his mouth won’t cooperate and, after a second or two, he gives up.

I get to the point of my visit. I heard you’re up for parole in six months?

So they tell me. He certainly doesn’t sound like a man who might have his freedom returned soon.

Do you think you’ve paid your penance?

No. There aren’t enough years left in me to pay for what I did.

Then we’re on the same page. Despite how much I hate him, we are connected. Him, me, Rebecca. We all played our part in Michael’s death.

Morgan, if I could go back, if I could change things...

But you can’t. Michael’s dead because of you. Because you betrayed us. Even as the words fall between us, I find myself thinking of how I had blamed Rebecca earlier, how I was hardly blameless. So many wrong decisions along the way, and only one tragic ending.

I thought I was doing what was best...

Don’t! I bang my handset against the glass. A crack appears, moving in a slow, jagged line until it disappears into the concrete below.

It’s okay. I wave the guard, who approaches to check on us, away. Everything is fine.

With a dubious frown he retreats back to his position by the door. 

Why are you here? Simon asks wearily.

For the same reason as last time. To remind you that you are not forgiven. That you’ll never be forgiven. I give him a small smile. That’s all.

I hang up the handset and push my chair back with enough force that it shoots across the tiled floor and ricochets off the far wall. As I ram open the door I can’t help but look back. He doesn’t see me. His head is in his hands and his shoulders are heaving. Usually I would have felt nothing, just a dull void where sympathy or some other human emotion should have resonated, but now I feel an itch between my shoulder-blades, an itch I cannot scratch and a nagging sense of wrongness in the pit of my stomach. I look for answers in