Morrison was gone from the board. Franklin was small in the scheme of things.
Titus was the name now. Morrison’s and Franklin’s boss. The man at the center. The pieces were shifting faster than he liked, but did they really have time to waste?
Hell no.
But underneath the mission, beneath all the intel and strategy, was something he couldn’t shake.
Clinton’s words. Stone and Law, together.
The seed was already rooting.
The next morning, just before dawn, Sparrow’s drop arrived.
A plain wooden box, placed exactly where it should be—in the hollow of the old cypress tree on the edge of the estate.
The Secret Service carried it in. Back in the study, Dave sliced it open. Files. Photographs. Names and numbers scribbled across maps.
One thing was clear from the information.
Titus was worse than Franklin had ever been. Titus was not just a handler of men, but a builder—networks, merc contracts, international human trafficking supply lines of children. AndPort Hueneme wasn’t just a target of convenience. It was central. A pressure point where they might set up a new compound.
Dave’s hands curled into fists. Creed. Kellum. The boys. And Stone—Stone caught in the middle of it all without even realizing how close Titus already was.
His first instinct was to pick up the phone and call Stone.
Warn him. Hear his voice. Anchor himself.
His hand hovered over the phone.
But he stopped.
Stone was in the field with Law. Stone hadn’t called him. And Clinton’s words were still there, coiling in the back of his mind like a venomous snake. Old connections. Old rhythms.
He shut his eyes, forcing the ache down. He couldn’t make this about them. Not now. Not when Titus’s net was tightening.
When he opened his eyes, he didn’t call Stone.
He called Ace.
The line connected. Ace’s voice came through, calm but sharp. “Sir.”
Dave’s tone was iron. “Titus has resurfaced. He has a second-in-command, Hank Franklin. I’ll send you the intel on both. Titus is building something big, and has Port Hueneme in his sights. I want Pegasus on alert. Full burn.”
“Understood.” No hesitation. Just the steel Dave expected from the Pegasus commander.
The call ended, but the weight remained.
Dave set the phone down, staring at the fire again. Flames twisted, shadows stretched, and in the silence of the study, one truth settled heavier than all the rest…
The mission was closing in. Titus had moved into play.
And whether Dave liked it or not, Law—and all the history Stone carried with him—was moving back into the center too.
The late afternoon sun covered Port Hueneme in a cool, gray haze, the kind of light Stone remembered from childhood.
His father, a military man, had been stationed out here. They’d lived off base, close to his uncle, and he’d grown up with Creed down the block.
The air smelled of citrus and dust, carried on a breeze that stirred the sycamores lining the quiet road. For a moment, as he turned up the street toward Creed’s place, Stone almost felt like he was sixteen again, pedaling a bike, skinning his knees, hearing his mother call him home when the streetlights came on.
