The morning sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline nearly forty stories below.The presidential suite was larger than most apartments. Dark hardwood floors stretched throughout the room, accented by modern artwork worth more than most people's annual salaries. A marble fireplace stood against one wall, while an elegant sitting area overlooked the sprawling skyline below. Everything about the suite screamed wealth, power, and success.Alexander swung his legs over the side of the king-sized bed and rubbed both hands over his face. Another nightmare. It had been six years.Six years since he'd left Black Ops. Six years since Operation Sandstorm had gone horribly wrong. Yet every few nights, he found himself back in that desert. He reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and drained it in one long swallow. The cool water did little to steady his racing heart.The digital clock read 6:12 a.m. He wasn't getting back to sleep. With a
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