The fear in his eyes that seemed directed at something other than us.
The operation felt almost too easy to take down.
Eight guys and a middle manager?
That's it?
That's the whole thing?
I push the doubt aside.
We have the intel.
We have the bodies.
We have the confirmation from Ted—and Ted is dead, so he's not lying.
Womack said he was the boss.
He's dead too.
It's over.
It has to be over.
I'm getting married.
I'm building a life with Ingrid.
I don't have room for more war, don't have room for more doubt.
The clubhouse appears on the horizon.
Lights blazing even with it being so late.
They're waiting for us.
The women.
The families.
Everyone who spent the night praying we'd come home.
I see her before I even kill the engine.
Ingrid, standing in the parking lot.
Hair loose around her shoulders, catching the light from the clubhouse.
Face still showing the fading bruises, the yellow-green remnants of what that bastard did to her.
But her eyes?—
Her eyes are bright.
Alive.
Wet with tears she's not bothering to hide.
