Chapter 32

Color Sergeant Michael Blackwood had endured more than most men could imagine in his fifteen years with the Special Air Service. He’d survived firefights in Iraq, close-quarters combat in Africa and extraction operations that officially didn’t exist. He’d been wounded twice, had killed enemies with weapons ranging from sniper rifles to his bare hands, and had watched mates die in remote corners of the world.

None of it had prepared him for fifteen days alone in the dark.

The colonel’s announcement had seemed almost comical at first. “A civilian—and an American at that—will be speaking to you about psychological resilience in captivity situations. Before his talk, you’ll undergo a preparatory experience.”

The lads had exchanged glances, confidence bordering on arrogance evident in their expressions. They’d all completed SERE training—Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape—the brutal program that prepared special forces operators for the possibility of capture. They’d endured mock interrogations, physical stress positions, sleep deprivation, and various other unpleasantnesses designed to test their breaking points.

Some bloke talking about his experiences? A load of bollocks.

Then they’d been told about the “preparatory experience”: fifteen days in solitary confinement. Complete darkness. No human contact. No indicators of time beyond meal deliveries.

“Voluntary,” the colonel had emphasized. “But highly recommended.”

Not a single one of his lads had declined. Pride, curiosity, competitive spirit—whatever the motivation, all twenty members of the unit had agreed.

Now, sixteen days later, Blackwood sat in the briefing room, feeling like a hollowed-out version of himself. His right leg bounced uncontrollably. His eyes couldn’t seem to focus properly. His mind felt simultaneously sluggish and hyperactive, racing in chaotic circles, unable to follow linear thoughts.

Around him, the lads looked equally shattered. These were men who could function on minimal sleep for days during operations, who could endure physical pain that would break ordinary soldiers, who prided themselves on mental toughness above all else. Now they sat avoiding eye contact, some with visible tremors, others unnaturally still as if conserving energy for essential functions only.

Fifteen fucking days. Just fifteen days had done this.

The door opened, and Colonel Foster entered with a civilian—tall, solid-looking bloke with reddish-blond hair, clear gray eyes and the kind of confident presence that suggested capability. He wore simple clothes, Levis, a button-down shirt and scuffed work boots.

“Gentlemen,” the colonel said, “this is Nicholas Carter.”

No one responded. Social niceties were beyond their collective capabilities.

The American studied them, his gaze neither sympathetic nor judgmental—simply observant. Then he turned to Foster.

“Beer and food,” he said simply. “Not military rations. Real food. Something with flavor and texture. Pizza or subs maybe.”

It wasn’t a request, but a statement of what was needed. Surprisingly, the colonel had nodded to the adjutant, who stepped out to make arrangements.

Meanwhile, the American said nothing, just took a seat at the table and continued his quiet observation of the group. Blackwood found himself grateful for the silence. After days of nothing but his thoughts bouncing back and forth in the darkness, normal conversation felt overwhelming.

Thirty minutes later, the door opened again. Several mess staff entered with boxes of pizzas, trays of sandwiches, crisps, fruit, and bottles of beer. Good beer too, not the piss-water usually available on base.

“Eat,” Carter said once the staff had departed. “Drink. Take your time.”

The simple direction broke through the collective paralysis. Hands reached for food and bottles were opened. The room filled with the sounds of eating, drinking, the occasional murmured request to pass something. No real conversation yet, but the atmosphere shifted subtly as blood sugar levels rose and the simple pleasure of flavor registered in sensory-deprived systems.