This reminded him of his own hospital stay just six months ago. He rubbed absently at his shoulder—an old habit more than pain—while he stayed planted at the bedside. His other hand hovered close to Dave’s arm. Anyone who tried to shift him back from sitting bedside thought better of it under the weight of his glare.
Nobody wanted to fuck with the dangerous-looking soldier.
Dave’s doctor—fifties, glasses perched low, steady hands—listened through his stethoscope, studied the EKG, then gave Dave a stern look.
“Your blood pressure’s dangerously high. Hypertension. You’ve been ignoring the signs for too long.”
Dave managed the ghost of a smile, lips pale. “What gave it away?”
The doctor didn’t flinch. “This isn’t a joke, Dave. You’re not invincible. If you keep this pace, next time it won’t be chest pain. It’ll be a coronary event—and you may not walk away.”
Stone’s fists curled tight. “He’ll do what you say.”
Dave turned his head, eyes narrowing despite the wires taped to his chest. “Since when do you give me orders?”
“Since you stopped listening to anyone else.” Stone’s voice was low, steady, but steel-threaded.
The doctor scribbled on his chart, then met Dave’s gaze again. “You need rest. Real rest. Stress management. Medication. Without it, your body will quit before your will does.”
Dave exhaled, jaw tight, but didn’t argue.
Stone’s shoulders stayed rigid, but inside, relief and terror churned.
He couldn’t lose him—not like this.
The next morning, Dave’s town car swept through the estate gates.
Inside the study, Sparrow leaned over the desk, sleeves rolled, tie loosened, his papers lined in precise rows.
Law lounged against the far wall, arms folded, whiskey eyes sharp, restless energy vibrating under his skin.
“They’re back,” Law said, pushing off the wall.
“About damn time,” Sparrow muttered. His voice carried clipped irritation, but there was something else under it—relief he’d never show outright.
Black, who’d been like a silent shadow, straightened from his lean next to Law.
The doors opened.
Stone guided Dave in, one hand steady at his back. Dave’s face was pale, his shirt rumpled from monitors, and his coat half off his shoulders.
“Hospital gave him a lecture,” Stone said.
Dave shot him a look. “And I don’t need another.”
Sparrow snapped his briefcase shut, eyes flicking between them. “Good. Because Titus isn’t slowing down. He’s shifting ports, bringing in new contractors, new routes. If we don’t move soon, we lose him.”
Law leaned forward, interest sparking. “I’ll run Sparrow’s lines. Connect the dots.”
Dave dropped into his chair, shoulders heavy but spine straight. His voice was gravelly, but steady. “You’ll work withSparrow. And with Stone. Keep Viper, Winter, and Black in the loop.
“Clinton’s out. From here on, everything runs through me.”
Law arched a brow, but only nodded. Sparrow gave a small, sharp tilt of his head.
“That’s a maybe,” Stone said. “I’ll be Dave’s advisor and right hand for the foreseeable future.”
Nobody argued.
