Chapter 7 - The Grieving Process
Friday arrived with a crisp, clear sky—a stark contrast to the blizzard that had almost been my tomb.
Elias drove me into Anchorage in his battered pickup truck.
I wore a tailored black suit I had Elias purchase for me, hiding the lingering bruises but accentuating my military bearing.
I wore dark sunglasses.
Titan sat in the backseat, wearing his official service dog vest.
We pulled into the parking lot of the Anchorage Grand.
Expensive cars lined the lot.
Julian had invited local politicians, military liaisons, and high society to witness his grief.
"You ready for this?" Elias asked, putting the truck in park.
He had a folder resting on his lap.
Inside were the toxicology reports Vance had managed to run on the hair samples Elias took from me, proving heavy metal poisoning over a period of months.
We also had the chewed nylon paracord.
"I’ve never been more ready," I said.
May you like
I opened the door.
Titan hopped out, immediately pressing against my left leg, falling into perfect lockstep.
