Page 3 of Broken Oath

The helicopter erupted with laughter.

Viking nearly spilled his Pepsi.

Hammer slapped his knee.

Even Ghost cracked a smile.

Rook shook his head.

Every mission.

Every deployment.

Every flight.

The same arguments. The same terrible jokes. The same men finding reasons to laugh before stepping into danger.

It was one of the things he loved most about them.

No matter what they had seen or survived, they never stopped being human.

Tex stretched his legs as far as the cramped cabin allowed.

“When this mission is over, I’m taking leave.”

The laughter stopped immediately.

Hammer pointed at him. “Liar.”

“I’m serious.”

“You don’t know how to take leave.”

Tex grinned. “My daughter turns six next month.”

The mood softened around the cabin.

Tex reached inside his vest and removed a folded photograph. He opened it carefully, revealing a little girl holding a small fishing pole almost twice her height.

The fish in her other hand looked bigger than Tex.

Viking leaned over. “She still catches more fish than you.”

“She does.”

“And you keep pretending you’re teaching her.”

Tex shrugged. “I’m moral support.”

“You’re bait support.”

“That too.”

More laughter filled the helicopter.

For a moment, there was no mission.

No Afghanistan.