Here are very small parts of some of the chapters that were posted
Chapter 17 – Languages of the Heart
"Ma'am, tell me what's going on," Angela asked, trying to keep her tone calm.
— "Он кричал на меня... и на мою дочь!"
("He yelled at me... and my daughter!")
Angela blinked. The Russian was clear, fluent. And completely out of her league. The woman tried to explain herself, alternating between broken English and rapid-fire sentences in her native tongue.
— "Ma'am, I don't understand. Slowly, please."
The woman shook her head, frustrated, visibly terrified. The girl began to cry softly, clinging to her mother tighter.
Angela turned to Derek.
— "She's speaking Russian. She's scared, and I can't understand enough to calm the situation."
Derek nodded. His eyes softened for a brief moment. Then he took a step forward and crouched down to look the girl in the eye.
"Привет, малышка. Всё хорошо. Я полицейский. Мы здесь, чтобы помочь."
("Hi, little one. It's okay. I'm a police officer. We're here to help.")
The change was immediate.
The girl stopped crying, just sniffling. Her eyes widened in surprise. The mother looked at Derek as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard.
— "Вы говорите порусски?"
("Do you speak Russian?")
— "Да. Я немного жил в России. Работал с переводчиками. Я понимаю вас."
("Yes. I lived in Russia for a bit. I worked with translators. I understand you.")
Chapter 19 – Roots and Faces
"Mom. Dad."
John shook his son's hand, then gave him a light, friendly slap on the shoulder.
"You still look like you're ready to board a Black Hawk."
"It's the uniform," Derek replied, with a slight smile.
Elizabeth looked at Angela, who was standing a step away.
"And you must be Angela Lopez."
Angela extended her hand, surprised.
"I am. Nice to meet you."
Elizabeth shook her hand firmly with a friendly smile.
"My son doesn't usually talk about people much, but you're an exception. That says a lot."
John approached and shook Angela's hand as well.
"He said you're 'sharp, poised, and reliable.' That's the kind of compliment Derek gives. Three words and that's it."
Angela laughed, slightly embarrassed.
"He's just like that."
Chapter 23 – The Day the City Stood Still
Then Obama looked around. An agent gave a discreet nod. And then, from the side entrance, Derek Davis appeared.
Still in his tactical uniform, helmet tucked under his arm, vest adjusted, eyes calm. His presence seemed to hush the room.
Obama smiled.
"It's been a while, Chief Davis."
Angela, Talia, and Bradford froze.
Zoe arched an eyebrow in surprise.
Derek approached firmly.
"Yes, Mr. President."
Obama extended his hand.
"It's good to see you're still serving, even out of the Navy uniform."
Derek shook his hand firmly but humbly.
"There are still battles to be fought, sir. Only the scenarios have changed."
Obama nodded.
"And you continue to make a difference. Thank you, Davis."
Derek gave a slight nod, his eyes steady.
"We're at your disposal."
Chapter 24 – Fragments of History
October 8, 2015 – 9:32 AM
Mid-Wilshire Police Station – Officers' Break Room
The morning after the presidential visit seemed ordinary, almost mundane. The smell of burnt coffee filled the air, and the constant sound of the receptionist's photocopier once again dominated the atmosphere. But no one in the station was completely back to normal. President Barack Obama's visit the day before had left a mark—not just in terms of protocol, but in terms of symbolism.
Officers chatted, whispered, and smiled discreetly in the hallways. And, at the center of it all, as always discreet and composed, was Derek Davis.
In the break room, Captain Zoe Anderson, Sergeant Wade Grey, Angela Lopez, Talia Bishop, and Tim Bradford sat or leaned against makeshift furniture, all still savoring the aftermath of the event.
Angela, sitting on the arm of the sofa with a mug of coffee, turned to Derek, who was in the corner of the room, organizing some papers.
"Okay, Davis. After what we saw yesterday... we need to know. Do you have any photos with the President?"
Bradford stepped forward, curious.
"Good! You have to. No one who's called 'Chief' by a president goes unregistered."
Talia crossed her arms, laughing.
"And you seem like the kind of guy who files everything, even MRE paperwork."
Zoe, who was pretending to just listen, raised an eyebrow in interest.
Derek hesitated for two seconds. He took a deep breath, then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. The same cell phone he used religiously only for essential purposes. But now, he unlocked it, opened a hidden folder—labeled simply "Personal"—and walked over.
— "I have a few. Nothing for Instagram, before you ask. They're official photos, taken by Department of Defense personnel. Some were given to me years later, privately."
He placed his phone on the table. The screen showed an image from 2007: Derek in his dress uniform, in a White House room, next to then-President George W. Bush. Three other men stood beside him, all standing erect, their expressions neutral, all operators.
— "This was after the extraction mission in Kirkuk, in northern Iraq. We had recovered two kidnapped journalists and a military adviser. We were called in for an informal ceremony."
Grey whistled softly.
— "Bush in person. This isn't just any mission."
Derek slid to the next image. This time, Obama. The room was different—a more modern room, walls decorated with military emblems. The president smiled slightly. Beside him was Derek, in full Marine uniform, without the traditional beard, his face clean-shaven, and his eyes even harder than today.
"That was in 2011. Days after Abbottabad."
Angela held her breath for a moment.
"That was... after the mission?"
"Yes. Fort Campbell, Kentucky. We returned to the country in secret. We were welcomed away from the cameras, without a public ceremony. Just us, the president, the vice president—at the time, Joe Biden—and a few high-ranking officers. They awarded us the Silver Star."
Talia stared at the screen.
"You earned a Silver Star?"
"Each of the mission operators received one. No public announcement. The medals were awarded inside a windowless room. And then we went back to work."
He slid to the last image in the sequence.
There were Barack Obama, Joe Biden, and the full group of operators—all in uniform, some with their faces partially shadowed. In the center, the president handed the medal to an operator. Beside him, Derek. He held his own decoration, his expression immobile. But his eyes... those eyes said more than any pose.
Angela lightly touched the screen.
"That's... powerful."
Zoe stepped closer, crossing her arms.
"How many men are in this photo?"
"Seventeen."
"And how many... are still alive?"
Derek stared for a moment.
"Thirteen. Two retired. Two died in later operations."
Grey took a deep breath.
"You carry this every day?"
"I do. But not as a burden. As a memento."
Talia looked at him, touched.
"And you never told. You never... showed off. You just came back, put on a different uniform, and moved on."
Derek nodded.
—"Because the mission continues. It just changes the scenery."
Angela looked at the photo again.
"Do you think about them? The ones who were there with you?"
"Every day. On every call we answer. On every corner we turn. Because I promised I wouldn't waste the time they wasted."
Silence filled the room. It wasn't awkward. It was reverent.
Zoe, her posture always erect, said softly:
"You're a living lesson, Davis. And not just in tactics or discipline. But in honor."
Bradford tried to ease the tension.
"I'll never show you a graduation photo of myself at the academy after this."
Everyone laughed.
But deep down, they knew: they had witnessed more than just images. They had touched, for a few seconds, a fragment of history and of Derek Davis's soul.
And in that moment, everyone there understood more deeply, the weight and greatness of the man who, even having lived the extraordinary, chose the ordinary every day because it is in him that the world is protected and transformed.
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