“Which brother?” I asked quietly.
Ava’s eyes shifted to me immediately.
“Caleb.”
Every nerve went tight.
Behind me, Trigger muttered:
“Oh, this just got deeply personal.”
Yeah.
It did.
Because Caleb McDougal had never done anything halfway. Saving people included.
My older brother threw himself into danger like breathing was optional.
Last I heard, he was somewhere overseas doing work nobody officially admitted existed.
Wolf lowered his weapon slightly.
“Afghanistan?”
Ava nodded once.
“Six years ago.”
Lightning flashed through the shattered bedroom window.
For one second the room turned white.
Then darkness again.
Ava slowly holstered her gun first.
Smart move.
“I was embedded with a joint intelligence unit near Kandahar,” she said quietly. “Our convoy got hit.”
Her voice stayed calm.
Too calm.
Like she’d told herself this story too many times already.
“Most of the team died in the first thirty seconds.”
Silence settled heavily through the room.
Hersh’s expression didn’t change.
Mine probably didn’t either.
Because men like Caleb saw horrors that most people couldn’t survive.
Ava continued carefully.
