Hunted By The Ones I Loved: A PMC's Reckoning

My name was Alex Mason, a PMC operator, and I thought I had it all: a thriving career, a top-tier team, and a beautiful fiancée, Sophia.

But a mission gone sideways, thanks to my boss's arrogant son, ripped my world apart.

The day after I reported it, my entire identity, every safe house, my very existence, was auctioned off on the dark web for pocket change.

I went to Sophia, aching and bleeding, seeking refuge, only to overhear her on the phone, casually selling my real-time GPS coordinates and psychological profile like a cheap side hustle.

My blood ran cold, but the true horror was yet to come.

Weeks later, I woke up in a public hospital, a John Doe, my body broken.

Sophia and her brother Derek stood by my bed, feigning concern, after they had drugged me, delivered me to my enemies, and filmed my brutal public beating to sell for $9.99 online.

The woman I loved had not only betrayed me but profited from my utter humiliation.

Stripped of everything, my dignity shattered, I was utterly broken.

How could someone I was going to marry orchestrate such a monstrous act?

Why did she want me destroyed, broadcasted for the world to see?

They wanted Alex Mason dead, and that' s exactly what happened.

My true identity buried, I emerged from the ashes of my old life.

Under a new name, Ben Carter, I' m building a life I never thought possible, and this time, I won't just survive; I'll reclaim everything they stole.

The extraction in Eastern Europe went south fast, real fast.

Derek Vance, the boss's son, thought he knew better than a seasoned team.

He broke protocol, went off on his own, and the asset we were there to retrieve, a high-value scientist, ended up dead.

My team lost two good men because of his arrogance.

Back at the PMC forward base, I didn't mince words.

"Derek Vance needs to be held accountable for this," I told the regional director, my voice tight.

"His actions directly led to mission failure and the deaths of our operatives."

The director, a corporate suit named Henderson, just nodded, his face unreadable.

"Your report will be noted, Mason."

That was it. Noted.

The next morning, my world imploded.

My encrypted comm crackled with a message from Mac, my old Green Beret buddy.

"Alex, you're blown. All of it. Your entire operational profile, every safe house, your real SIN, everything."

I felt a cold knot in my stomach. "How?"

"Dark web auction," Mac said, his voice grim. "Starting bid? Nine dollars and ninety-nine cents."

Humiliation was a bitter pill, but the immediate threat was worse.

They weren't just trying to ruin me, they were painting a target on my back for every two-bit gun-for-hire.

The first attack came less than an hour later.

A black SUV tried to run me off the road as I was heading to what I thought was a secure location.

I managed to ditch the car and escape into the alleys, but not before taking a piece of shrapnel to my left shoulder.

Bleeding and on the run, my first thought was Sophia. My fiancée.

Her father, CEO of a massive defense contractor, the kind that owned the PMC I worked for.

She had to know something, had to help.

I made my way to her Georgetown townhouse, sticking to the shadows.

The pain in my shoulder was a dull, throbbing fire.

As I approached her front steps, I heard voices from her walled garden. Sophia's.

I pressed myself against the cool brick, listening.

"He's a liability now, darling," Sophia said, her voice light, almost amused. "Completely compromised."

A friend, someone I didn't recognize, giggled. "So, what are you going to do? Cut him loose?"

"Oh, please," Sophia scoffed. "He'll come crawling, begging for daddy to clean up his mess. Like a stray dog."

My breath hitched. Stray dog.

Then her next words hit me like a physical blow.

"I've already put his real-time GPS coordinates up for sale, a little side hustle. Six sixty-six. A bargain, right?"

The friend gasped. "Sophia, you didn't!"

"And his known weaknesses? Psychological profile, old injuries, combat tells? Three thirty-three. Even the amateurs can get a piece of him before the big fish claim the main bounty."

My blood ran cold.

She wasn't just abandoning me, she was actively selling me out, piece by piece, for pocket change.

The woman I was going to marry.

The betrayal was so profound, so absolute, it almost stopped my heart.

The pain in my shoulder was nothing compared to this.

I leaned against the wall, the cold brick a small comfort.

Sophia' s words echoed in my mind, each one a fresh stab.

"Like a stray dog."

My mind flashed back.

South America, a hostage rescue. Derek, green and cocky, nearly got us all killed by rushing a barricaded room.

I' d pulled him out by his collar, saving his worthless hide.

Afterward, Sophia hadn' t thanked me for saving her brother.

She' d accused me of not "coddling" him enough, of being too harsh.

"He's sensitive, Alex," she'd said, her eyes cold. "You need to guide him, not break him."

Another memory surfaced.

A corporate security summit last year. Pops Washington, an old-timer, a veteran who' d seen it all, pulled me aside.

"Watch yourself with the Vances, son," he' d mumbled, smelling of stale coffee and cigarettes.

"They use people. You' re a sharp tool to them, nothing more. Once you' re dull, or they find a sharper one..."

He never finished. The next day, Pops was reassigned.

A remote monitoring post in Alaska. Siberia of the corporate world.

I' d dismissed it as office politics, Sophia' s father protecting his interests.

Now, I saw it clearly. Pops was trying to warn me.

Sophia' s manipulation wasn' t new. It was a long game, and I' d been her prize pawn.

The Vances. They weren't just ruthless in business, they were ruthless in everything.

My life, my career, my safety – all expendable for their convenience, their power.

The pain in my shoulder flared, a sharp reminder of my current reality.

I couldn' t stay here. Sophia's betrayal meant this was the most dangerous place I could be.

I pulled out my burner phone, the one I kept for emergencies like this.

Only one name I could call.

Mac.

His voice was a lifeline. "Alex? You okay? I've been trying to reach your primary."

"Compromised," I said, my voice hoarse. "All of it. Sophia... she' s in on it. Selling my location."

A harsh curse on the other end. "That bitch. Knew she was bad news. Where are you?"

"Georgetown. Near her place. Took a hit, shoulder."

"Stay put if you can, find cover. I' m mobile. ETA twenty minutes. We' ll get you out, figure out a new identity. You can' t trust anyone connected to the Vances."

"I know," I said. The words felt like ash in my mouth.

The Vances wanted me broken, begging.

A chained house dog, as Sophia implied.

No. If I was going down, I was going down fighting, free.

I pushed myself off the wall, ignoring the searing pain.

Time to disappear.