Chapter1
Cavil
The library. Quiet again.
Smelled like dust and coffee. Not fresh coffee—burnt, watered-down sludge. Still, better than silence. Silence had teeth.
I leaned back in the chair that creaked every time I breathed wrong and watched the others. Same crew. Same ghosts. Different day.
Noah sat across from me, shoulders like granite, jaw tight. Always looked like he was waiting for something to explode. He kept rubbing the smooth, prosthetic curve where fingers used to be. Muscle memory was a cruel bastard.
“How’s the new scope?” I asked. Didn’t expect more than a grunt.
He glanced up. “Good enough. Can’t feel my left hand much anymore.” He flexed it—metal, cold and sharp in the overhead light. “But it’ll do.”
“Hmph.” Would have said more, but Luke beat me to it.
“You need to get back out there,” he said, leaning in, too eager. Still had that jarhead energy even if the uniform was long gone. Marine to the bone.
“Maybe.” Noah’s voice dropped. That shadow again. He was always standing half in it.
Javier snorted. Propped his leg—metal, polished, loud—on the table like it was a statement. Probably was. “You should see him on range days. Looks like he’s playing darts.”
Noah smirked. Just barely. That was something.
“Don’t need a uniform to stay sharp,” Luke added, lifting his chin like he was still waiting for orders.
“Some don’t get to choose,” I muttered. Took a sip of coffee. Tasted like regret. Swallowed it anyway.
Javier nodded, sobering. “That’s what this is, yeah? Keeping our heads on straight.”
I didn’t answer right away. Just looked around. Broken men, stitched together with duct tape and dark humor.
“We carry what we carry,” I said.
Quiet again. Not heavy. Just… thick. Like the air before a snowstorm.
Luke shifted. Pulled an envelope from his jacket—worn edges, soft in the way only old pain is. He slid it toward Noah without a word.
Noah picked it up slow. Tore it open slower. Inside—photo. Sunlight. Sand. Smiles that didn’t know what was coming.
He held it up.
“That was before…” Voice cracked like dry wood.
“Before everything went sideways?” Javier asked, soft.
Noah nodded. Didn’t say anything else. That photo would follow him home. Crawl into his bed. Whisper in his ear.
We didn’t fill the silence after that. No point.
We just sat in it.
Luke pressed on gently but firmly, keeping everyone steady without pushing too hard. “You’re not alone in remembering those days.” His eyes moved slow, measured—landed on each of us before settling back on Noah.
“I just miss it,” Noah finally said. Took him long enough. The words hung heavy—raw. Truth buried deep, now dragged into the light.
We all knew that feeling. Brotherhood made under fire. Gone now, except for shadows. Guilt. Silence. Pain with teeth.
