That earned a short laugh around the table, sharp but genuine.
Dave let it roll for a beat before adding, “Titus was at my California estate, but hearing of his brother’s death, he slipped away without a word.”
The humor drained, replaced by a heavier silence.
Viper’s jaw flexed, dark eyes sharp, but he said nothing. The anger and something else were obvious, simmering hot.
Dave didn’t let it linger. “The mole in Titus’s team showed his hand—went after Sparrow’s intel at the estate. Ace and his men put him in the ground before he could breathe twice.”
The weight of that settled across the table.
“Good,” Rip muttered, voice sharp and low.
Boston huffed a short laugh. “Guess that’s one more rat off Titus’s payroll.”
Nods circled the table—brief, wordless agreement.
Silence settled heavily until Sage cut through it, eyes still on the glow of his tablet. “You’re all acting like it’s over,” he said, tone flat, fingers moving across the screen. “It’s not. There are always more sickos out there.”
The words landed hard. Around the table, men shifted, silent nods of agreement passing between them.
“Careful, Sage. Keep talking like that, you’ll start to sound like the rest of us.” Law leaned an elbow on the table, his tone dry, teasing just enough to take the edge off.
Sage looked up, squinting at him, lips pursed. Those blond curls fell into bright green eyes. He didn’t say a word—just stared until the weight of it made Law swallow and glance away.
A ripple of low chuckles broke the tension again.
Dave let the noise settle, then straightened, gaze sweeping the table. These men weren’t just assets or operatives.
They’d come for him with no questions asked.
They were family. They’d bled for each other, and now—finally—the fight that had haunted them was over.
“You did good work,” he said simply.
The words landed heavier than a medal. Heads nodded, shoulders eased. For the first time in a long time, the room felt lighter.
An hour later, his office was quieter than the war room had ever been, though the weight in the air was just as heavy.
The screen on Dave’s desk glowed with the President’s face, sharp in the bluish light.
Video call—no secrets, not this time. Stone stood against the window at his back, arms folded, silent but close enough that Dave could feel his presence.
“I heard what happened,” the President started before he could begin. “Are you okay?”
“I am.”
“That’s good news.”
“Sir,” Dave continued, voice steady. “I want to retire earlier than we discussed.”
The President’s brows lifted. “How much earlier?”
Dave met his gaze through the screen. “How about tomorrow?”
A pause. The President leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “Can you give me a month?”
Dave glanced toward the man at the window.
