“That’s right,” Rip muttered. His jaw clenched at the memory of Boston’s snarky comments on the beach. “You were raised to slit throats in your sleep.”
Boston’s cheeky smile curved, dimples flashing even under the tension. “And you snore loud enough to wake the dead.”
Rip scowled. “You don’t know how loud I snore.”
Boston smirked. “News flash. I’ve crashed in the bunkhouse.” His gaze swung back to Dave, dark eyes bright with adrenaline. “Count me in.” His eyes slid to Sage. “Send us both in. Sage is also YA.”
“I’m not a teenager.” Sage spun his pen.
“But you could pass for one,” Boston insisted.
“He’s right, you could,” Dave said, looking over Sage’s slender build and curly blond hair.
Sage squinted, then nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“Alright, then that’s the plan,” Dave said.
The room came alive—boots shifting, chairs scraping, the low thrum of voices trading strategy and risk in equal measure.
Stone quietly made his way over to Owen and Jordan. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Owen smiled and draped his arm around Jordan’s shoulders. “Thank you.”
Jordan—aka J—smirked. All focus. All control. Stone had seen that look before. The hacker didn’t miss much on or off a screen—he’d once cracked open a top-secret grid and renamed all the files “oops.”
“You keeping Owen on his toes?” Stone asked, one brow lifting with the ghost of a smile.
Jordan’s gaze flicked toward Owen, affection clear in the look. “As much as I can.”
The room broke into a low rumble—papers shifting, voices overlapping, plans tossed across the table—and the moment slipped away.
Hours passed in strategy and debate until it became clear they were running in circles.
They were getting nowhere.
Finally, Dave called it. “That’s enough for tonight.”
The war room emptied slowly, men dispersing with clipped words and heavy stares.
Pegasus took the perimeter, Genesis settled deeper into the estate, and Titus was pulled to a holding room under guard. Walt, still rain-soaked, stayed close, a shadow at his side. Both men were provided with clean, dry clothes and food.
Stone shadowed Dave through the hallway and into the study.
The storm had softened, rain easing into a steady hush that folded into the surf. The warmth of the room enveloped them with the smells of coffee and leather, softer than the gun oil and tension they’d left behind.
“We got nowhere tonight,” Stone said.
“I know,” Dave said, rubbing at his forehead. “So, we’ll hit it again in the morning.”
Stone leaned against the desk, watching Dave unbutton his cuffs and roll his sleeves. The simple gesture made him look human again, not just the commander every man leaned on.
“You don’t have to carry all of it,” Stone said, keeping his voice low.
Dave gave a tired smile. “You’re helping.”
Stone snorted softly. “How so?”
“Just by being here.”
