The Moscow Offensive

Epilogue

Major Nadia Rozek loped alone along the wide, windswept stretch of sandy beach. She gritted her teeth against the icy cold, dug into the loose sand, and kept going — striving to master her new prosthetic running blades. They were the last piece of the challenge she’d been wrestling with ever since the surgeons at Fort Sam Hood amputated both of her mangled legs below the knee.

Weeks of agonizing hospitalization in the United States had been followed by months of painful and exhausting rehabilitation at home in Poland. She’d already relearned to walk using other, more conventional prosthetic legs. Now she was determined to prove that she was not a helpless cripple to be thanked for her service, awarded a pension, and then gently set aside. Men like Douglas Bader, the World War II RAF fighter ace, had already shown that double amputees could fly and fight in the air. Her task was to convince her superiors that she was fit to serve, even without her legs, as an active-duty officer in Poland’s special forces.

And so every day, in all kinds of weather, she ran up and down this long, empty stretch of beach — rebuilding her strength, her stamina, her agility, and her speed. Already, she was beating the personal records she’d set with two real legs.

But she always ran alone.

Nadia ducked her head and sprinted across the sand, trying to focus on what was just in front of her… and not on what might lie in her future. Since she was a child, she’d only really been afraid of one thing — the chance that she might live out her life as a solitary being, alone and loveless. For years, the comradeship of her fellow soldiers had filled the void… though only imperfectly. Then she’d met Brad McLanahan, and it was as though a new sun had risen in her world, bringing with it a glorious feeling of warmth and growth and joy.

But now? When he looked at her, would he still see the woman he loved? Or would Brad’s eyes be continually tormented by the sight of her scars and missing limbs? He blamed himself for the wounds she’d taken in that final battle… as unfair as that was. During his visits to her hospital room and then later in the rehabilitation center, his feelings of guilt and regret had lain between them like the black shadow of the moon as it eclipsed the sun.

If only he’d been free to spend more time with her — learning to cope with what had happened just as she had. But he was a serving soldier in the Iron Wolf Squadron and his time was not fully his own… especially in a world reeling from the aftermath of Grzylov’s most recent vicious schemes.

Right now, Nadia feared she might lose him forever. America’s newly inaugurated president Farrell had lifted all of Barbeau’s sanctions and threats of prosecution against those who’d served with Iron Wolf and Scion. She’d heard the joy in Brad’s voice when he phoned her with the news that he and his father were flying back to the United States to visit with family. Weeks had passed since they’d left, with only an occasional, awkward call or e-mail or text. What if Brad decided to stay in the land of his birth rather than return to Poland? Through all their time together, she’d known in her heart that he’d never fully reconciled himself to the possibility of a life spent in exile.

She knew she just feeling sorry for herself, that as a member of the military she should expect to make sacrifices. After all, Whack Macomber was also going through his own rehabilitation — in his case for several shattered ribs and badly broken arms and legs. He hadn’t suffered any amputations, but the big man joked that he had more pins in him than there had been in his grandmother’s sewing kit. Each time they spoke in the hospital or on the phone, the colonel’s encouragement in spite of his own injuries had helped her stay motivated. Yet even with her determination to overcome her physical limitations, Nadia felt emotionally raw.

She stopped to catch her breath, staring down at the hard-packed sand in front of her blades without seeing anything more than a blur. You will survive, she told herself, whatever happens.

Steeling herself to push through the next five kilometers, Nadia looked up… and saw a tall, broad-shouldered figure in the dark, rifle-green uniform jacket of the Iron Wolf Squadron. He stood alone on the sand, waiting for her.

With new energy, she sprinted toward him… and found herself caught up in his arms. “Hi, there,” Brad said. “I’m back.”

Nadia looked up at him in wonder. “I was afraid you would go home now that your president makes it possible. Home to America.”

Smiling gently, he shook his head. “America. Poland. Anywhere in the world. It doesn’t really matter to me. My real home is wherever you are, Nadia Rozek. Always and forever.”