The position certainly helped clarify the situation.
“That’s where we sent Butter?” Marc confirmed.
Murphy nodded, the strain along his jawline a sign that he was doing his best to maintain composure. Losing it in here would send shockwaves throughout my lines.
“Butter?” Alered asked.
“My detachments are named after the phonetic letters in our alphabet. A for Apples, B for Butter and C for Charlie.”
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
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