Stone sat back in a chair near the long table, boots planted firm, the firelight inside throwing warm shadows across the walls, finger swiping his phone, scrolling.
The sun had long set, shadows deepened through the windows—night had fully settled, and that was when he heard it—measured footsteps crossing the porch. Boots, heavy, deliberate. A moment later, the door swung open, and the weight of authority came with it.
Viper.
He filled the doorway before stepping inside, tall and imposing, the lamplight catching on his dark hair and the sharp lines of his face. Gray eyes swept over the room like a blade, cool and commanding, before settling on Stone. The man carried power the way others carried weapons—effortlessly, unshakably.
Major. Active Military. Commander of Genesis. Still in uniform, still bound by the chain of command—but out here at Nightfall Drifters Ranch, he was more than just a soldier. He was the authority that tied the assassin’s world to the military might.
The air shifted as soon as he entered. Even Rip, lounging on his bunk, straightened a little.
“Stone.” Viper’s voice was low, steady, and absolute.
Stone didn’t move, just lifted his gaze from his phone and met those storm-grey eyes head-on.
“Viper,” he said.
Viper crossed the room, each step controlled, until he stood opposite Stone at the table. The firelight carved hard edges into his chiseled jaw, made the muscle stacked on his frame look even heavier, more lethal. And being the leader of some of the most dangerous men in the military world made Viper a man to respect.
Viper was one badass motherfucker.
“I’ve got a job for you,” Viper said.
Stone arched a brow, leaning back in his chair.
A leader of military Viper may be…but Stone didn’t answer to anyone but Dave.
“Don’t you have an entire unit for that?”
The faintest flicker of a smile crossed Viper’s mouth. “Not this one. This one’s yours.” His pause was deliberate, heavy. “You’ll be meeting up with Law.”
The name landed like a strike.
Law.
Stone kept this expression unreadable, but inside, something old stirred—memory, loyalty, the kind of history you didn’t easily walk away from.
“When?” Stone asked, his tone even.
“Soon.” Viper’s gaze sharpened. “He asked for you by name.”
Stone gave a slow nod. “Then I’ll go.”
For a moment, the two men held each other’s stare, silence thick with unspoken things. Then Viper dipped his chin once in finality and turned, boots thudding across the floor as he left the bunkhouse the same way he’d come in—controlled, certain, unstoppable.
The door shut behind him, leaving the warmth of the fire and the echo of his words in the still air.
Stone sat back in his chair, eyes on the flames.
Law. Of all the ghosts in his past—it had to be him.
His phone lay face up on the table, screen black. More than once, he thought about calling Dave just to hear his voice.
Just to know he was still there, steady, alive.
He didn’t.
Instead, he sat with the silence, staring at the flames, the weight of unspoken things pressing heavier than the night around him.
