“True,” Rafe commented from his spot near the window. “But you’ve also never voluntarily put yourself in a situation where you have to wear a tie.”
A brief chuckle rippled through the room. Even Ethan’s mouth quirked slightly at the corner.
“For the record,” I said, “I’ll be on time, appropriately dressed, and there will be absolutely no need for anyone to drag me to the altar.”
“That’s what they all say,” Nolan muttered with exaggerated wisdom.
“Alright, enough,” Ethan said, though his voice lacked real heat. He understood what they were doing—using humor to release the tension that had been building since Finland. Since Estonia. Since we’d all thrown away our careers and legitimate lives to rescue one little girl and establish this new, shadowy version of our old unit.
“Where’s Evelyn?” Leo asked, glancing at the empty chair to my right.
“Running late,” I answered. “She’s been coordinating with social services for the Garnett survivors.”
Jade nodded. “I spoke with her this morning. She’s helping three families relocate to Seattle, setting up support services, housing, the whole package.”
“Woman’s a machine,” Flynn said, genuine respect in his voice. “Planning a wedding, raising a kid, building an intelligence network, and still finding time to help civilian victims.”
“She sleeps about four hours a night,” I said. It wasn’t an exaggeration. I’d wake at three a.m. to find her side of the bed empty, follow the soft glow of her laptop to the kitchen where she’d be cross-referencing Innovixus facility blueprints or creating profiles on potential targets.
When I tried to get her to rest, she’d look at me with those dark, haunted eyes and say, “They’re still out there. They’re still doing this to other people.”
The side door opened, and Evelyn slipped in, looking slightly flushed, like she’d been hurrying. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, her usual bookstore clerk softness replacedby something sharper, more focused. The transformation still caught me off guard sometimes—this woman who had hidden in plain sight for years now stepping fully into her power.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, sliding into the chair beside me. Her hand brushed mine briefly under the table, a silent greeting that sent warmth through my chest.
“Perfect timing,” Ethan said, opening the thick binder in front of him. “Let’s get started with the official after-action report on Operation Garnett.”
As everyone turned their attention to Ethan, I caught Nolan watching me with a knowing smile. He mimed a whip-cracking motion when Evelyn wasn’t looking. I responded with a gesture that would’ve gotten me reprimanded in our military days. Some things never changed, even as everything else around us had transformed beyond recognition.
We were fugitives with new identities, operating outside the law we had once served. We had exchanged government paychecks for private funding and military structure for something more fluid, more responsive. We had traded safety for purpose, security for freedom.
And somehow, in the midst of all that chaos, I had found the one thing I never expected: a family. A woman who had been through hell and come out stronger. A little girl who called me “Daddy” when she thought I couldn’t hear her practicing the word. A team that had become my brothers and sisters in every way that mattered.
In three days, I’d make it official with Evelyn. But the truth was, we were already bound by something stronger than paperwork or vows. We were bound by what we’d survived together, what we’d built from the ashes of our old lives.
The teasing was just their way of saying they saw it too. That even in this dangerous new world we’d chosen, some things were worth celebrating.
“Bricks?” Ethan’s voice pulled me back. “You ready to begin?”
I nodded, pushing thoughts of the wedding aside. “Ready.”
It was time to get back to work.
Ethan opened the three-inch binder and laid it flat on the conference table. Operation Garnett: After-Action Report. The cover page was clean and official-looking, as if this had been just another sanctioned mission and not the operation that had decimated the original Edge Ops and forced us all underground. I’d already read it cover to cover three times, searching for something we’d missed, some thread we could have pulled differently that would have saved more people. Some decision point where choosing left instead of right might have spared Sheriff Parker or kept Dutch Henderson from taking that bullet.
“By the tactical metrics,” Ethan began, his voice steady and professional, “Operation Garnett meets all criteria for mission success.”
Success. Such a clean, simple word for the mess we’d left behind.
“One hundred eighty civilians freed from neural suppression,” he continued, flipping to the statistical summary page. “Forty-seven test subjects recovered from the facility. Primary target Langston Winslow is dead. Dr. Helena Kovacs is in federal custody, facing multiple life sentences. The Garnett facility was completely neutralized.”
Numbers on a page. Checkboxes ticked. Success by any standard operational measure. I glanced at Evelyn beside me, wondering if the clinical accounting of what we’d done provided her any comfort. Her face remained carefully neutral, but her fingers tapped a restless rhythm against her thigh under the table.
“The Justice Department is satisfied with the outcome,” Ethan added. “And I’ll mark it as a successful operation in our official record.”
Our “official” record. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone at the table. There was nothing official about us anymore.
“Now for the cost analysis.” Ethan flipped to another section, his voice dropping slightly. This was the part the government reports wouldn’t include. The human toll that couldn’t be quantified in asset recovery or neutralized threats.
