No one moved.
Cannon’s jaw flexed, and he swept a look around the table. “So before anyone decides Archer’s new nickname is Mia for MIA, don’t even think about it.”
Rome exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck.” He shook his head and stared at Archer. “I’ve been busting your balls about meditating when you probably use it to deal with trauma.Fuck.I’m an asshole.”
Archer’s lips twisted. “You were an asshole before you ever knew me.”
His attempt at lightening the atmosphere fell flat.
Townie leaned back in his chair, nodding as if he knew something the rest of them didn’t. “Meditation,” he echoed. “Silence. Monk.” He snapped his fingers and sat up straighter. “That’s it. Henceforth, you shall be known as Monk. You know, because of the meditating.”
“Why not just call me by my name?” Archer asked, but he was already chewing over the nickname, testing the feel of it.
“Carmichael is a little much to say on the fly, don’t you think?” Townie shot back.
A faint breath of humor moved through the room, but it didn’t stick long. Not with what was sitting underneath it.
When he spoke, he kept his tone level like he was walking them through an op instead of a year of his life.
“He grabbed me during an undercover op. I was tracking one of his networks. Thought I was getting close.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “Turns out Cipher was already watching me.”
No one interrupted.
“The first week, he moved me from place to place. I was hooded and restrained most of the time. He kept me disoriented,giving me no schedule, no reliable way to track time.” His fingers reflexively curled against the table, and he forced them to relax.
“After that…it was mostly black.” He flicked his gaze to Rome. “Why do you think I’m so good at being in the dark?”
Rome’s chair creaked as he shifted. “Couldn’t get out?”
Archer released a breath that almost passed for a laugh. “I tried, early on. I quickly learned that partway out just means all the way back in with damages.”
The weight in the room shifted, heavier, but not with shock.
It was something closer to respect.
“So I adapted,” he went on. “Built routines where there weren’t any. Counted breaths. Tracked sounds. Memorized every movement in the building. You could call it meditation. I call it survival.”
Rome winced slightly. “Still an asshole.”
Archer’s lips quirked. “Yeah, but now you’re a self-aware one.”
A quiet huff moved through the room at his renewed joke.
“Cipher is methodical. Everything is calculated—even the violence.” He turned his head to look at that building again. Even though he knew Cipher was captured and imprisoned…he couldn’t help but spot the pattern.
Cannon’s voice cut in. “How’d you hold the line?”
It was a question men in their position asked because they all knew there could come a time they’d need to hold it together too.
Archer didn’t respond immediately. For a heartbeat, the room wavered at the edges—not gone, just distant.
“He wanted to turn me, like he did so many in government positions. But no matter what he did, I wasn’t going to let that happen.”
He paused again, grounding himself in the here and now. He let out a quiet breath. “The worst part of the whole experience was getting rescued by my little sister’s boyfriend.”
Rome blinked. “Wait. Charlie team took down Cipher. You were there?”
He gave a faint nod.
