Here I am, this is me There’s nowhere else on earth I’d rather be…
For the longest time, my world existed in pieces.
I was five when I was torn away from my two sisters.
Some wounds never disappear.
Being abandoned that young teaches you that people leave, promises break, and depending on someone gives them the power to hurt you.
So I built walls.
High ones.
Strong ones.
For most of my life, nobody got through them.
My childhood was spent navigating the brutal underworld of the Korean Mafia.
Later came the British Army and five gruelling tours in Afghanistan as a Major.
War became another kind of home, where fear had to be buried and hesitation could get people killed.
Then everything changed.
Our helicopter was shot down in the mountains.
One moment we were flying.
The next, there was fire, screaming metal and darkness.
When I opened my eyes, everyone else was gone.
I was the lone survivor.
I thought that was the end of my story.
It wasn’t.
I was captured by a rogue paramilitary unit.
Then three American mercenaries found me.
They weren’t heroes.
Not then.
A former SEAL with a rifle loud enough to wake the dead.
A rogue LAPD pilot who flew a SeaKing with the calm of a man who had long ago made peace with death.
And a brilliant tech expert with an unhealthy affection for explosives.
They were criminals.
Drugs.
Weapons.
Men I had spent my life learning not to trust.
But something changed when they heard my story.
Whatever the reason, they walked away from that life.
And then they helped me find my sisters.
One had to be rescued from a trafficking ring in Albania.
After everything that had been stolen from us, we were together again.
Now we hunt the monsters.
We go after the people who exploit, abuse and destroy innocent lives.
And we make sure they understand one thing.
No one is untouchable.
But there is one moment that captures who we are better than any other.
It happens thousands of feet above the ground.
The Edge of the Bay Door
Inside the SeaKing, there is no silence.
Only noise.
The twin turbines shake the aircraft, vibrating through the metal floor and into our bones. The air smells of aviation fuel, hot machinery and sweat. Every strap trembles. Every piece of equipment rattles.
Outside, the horizon disappears beneath smoke.
Our pilot throws the massive helicopter into another barrel roll.
For one brief moment, the floor tilts beneath us.
Then the aircraft levels out.
Nobody speaks.
Our tech expert checks his tactical display one final time. Grenades hang from his chest.
He smiles.
He is happy.
Across from him, the former SEAL looks at us.
No speech.
No dramatic farewell.
Just a thumbs-up.
It’s time.
Near the open bay door, the world suddenly becomes very small.
There are only three of us.
My sisters.
And me.
We stand together, our hands locked tightly.
I look down.
The ground is so far below it barely seems real.
My military training tells me to focus.
Check the equipment.
Watch the signal.
Wait for the command.
But this moment isn’t about fear.
It’s about trust.
For most of my life, I believed being alone was safer.
If nobody got close, nobody could leave.
Nobody could betray me.
Nobody could break me.
But as my fingers tighten around my sisters’ hands, those walls disappear.
All at once.
We are no longer three children separated by a cruel world.
We are together.
The green jump light flickers.
Once.
Twice.
Then it floods the aircraft.
For a heartbeat, nobody moves.
The rotors thunder above us.
Somewhere in the distance, anti-aircraft fire breaks through the night.
And then a melody rises inside my head.
Bryan Adams.
“Here I am, this is me. There’s nowhere else on earth I’d rather be…”
For years, I thought freedom meant being safe.
No one controlling me.
No one telling me where to go.
No one holding a gun.
But now, standing thousands of feet above the earth with my sisters beside me, I understand something I never expected.
Freedom isn’t the absence of fear.
It’s choosing where you belong.
And right now, there is nowhere else on earth I’d rather be.
## The Moment Before the Fall
We take one synchronized breath.
Nobody says goodbye.
That would mean we expect not to return.
Instead, we look at each other.
One glance.
Three sisters.
A lifetime of separation.
A lifetime of searching.
And then…
we step forward.
There is no floor.
No warning.
No turning back.
For one terrifying fraction of a second, the world disappears beneath our feet.
Then gravity takes us.
The SeaKing vanishes above us.
Wind tears around us as we plunge through the darkness.
One hundred and twenty miles per hour.
Faster.
Faster.
The ground is somewhere below.
Waiting.
I turn my head.
One sister is beside me.
Then the other.
Their bodies are steady in formation, their eyes visible behind their tactical visors.
And suddenly, the impossible becomes simple.
This is where I belong.
Not in the shadows of the Mafia.
Not alone in the mountains of Afghanistan.
Not beside the wreckage of another destroyed life.
Here.
In the open sky.
Diving beside my sisters.
The wind tears at my body, but I don’t feel trapped.
I feel alive.
For the first time, I understand the words playing inside my head.
Here I am.
This is me.
There is nowhere else on earth I’d rather be.
For years, I was a survivor.
One person.
One soldier.
One woman who believed she had to carry everything alone.
But not anymore.
Now we are three.
Bound together by blood, loss and everything we survived.
The song isn’t background music.
It is a declaration.
Tonight, we are not falling.
We are arriving.
Awakening the Storm
The free fall lasts only seconds.
But then comes the signal.
Altitude.
Position.
Timing.
The moment has arrived.
Our parachutes deploy.
Black canopies explode above us with a violent crack.
For an instant, everything goes silent.
Then the world returns.
The wind.
The darkness.
The mission.
Below us lies the compound.
From this height, it looks almost peaceful.
That is the terrifying thing about evil.
From a distance, it rarely looks like evil.
Lights burn behind windows.
Vehicles stand outside.
Men move through the shadows.
And somewhere inside are people who believe they are safe.
They have no idea what is descending towards them.
Three sisters.
Separated as children.
Reunited against every possible expectation.
Coming for them.
We drift lower.
Lower.
