Bolt smirked. “You’ll see worse in Squad Eleven.”
Fly swallowed, pulse quickening, not with nerves, but anticipation. “Second phase… that’s where you knew you belonged?”
Bolt nodded, slow and sure. “Yeah. When everything went dark, I felt awake. Felt like the ocean recognized me.”
Fly let that settle into his chest, warm and heavy.
Than murmured, “He’s not wrong. There’s something about being pushed like that, being broken down, then realizing you’re still standing.”
Shamrock hummed thoughtfully. “You boys haven’t even reached the good part.”
Fly blinked. “You?”
Bolt answered before Shamrock could dodge. “Best shot in the entire class. Deadliest instinct I’ve ever seen. He’s going to sniper school after SQT, mark my words.”
Than’s breath hitched. “That school is a monster. Hardest in the entire U.S. military.”
Bolt nodded. “It’s a freaking beast. But our friend here. He’s going to blow them the fuck away.”
Shamrock’s grin was lazy, but something proud flickered behind it. “I just shoot like my life depends on it. Because once upon a time, it did.”
Fly stared at him, something tightening in his chest. Cormac Kavanaugh, the walking chaos engine, was going to be a sniper. A damn legendary one, if Bolt’s tone was any indication.
Shamrock rolled onto his back, folding his arms behind his head. “You’ll like Hell Week, Gallagher. You’re built for it. Pain motivates you.”
Fly raised a brow. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. You’re a perfectionist with a hero complex and a death wish. Instructors love boys like you.”
Fly barked a soft laugh. “You know, that should offend me.”
“It won’t,” Shamrock said. “Because it’s true.”
Than’s head tipped toward Fly. “He’s right. You’re made for Annapolis.”
Fly felt something flutter in his ribs, that strange mix of dread and desire that came whenever someone believed in him too loudly. Bolt’s trust meant something. Shamrock’s meant something different. Than’s meant something deeper.
For the first time, he let himself feel all of it.
Than drifted first, head sinking back into the sand, breaths deepening. Bolt was gone a moment later, sprawled on his back, the ink on his hip glowing pale in the moonlight. Shamrock watched them with a fondness he’d never admit to possessing.
Then, quietly, he said, “You’re gonna make one hell of an officer, Fly.”
Fly stared at him, throat tightening.
“You think so?” he whispered.
Shamrock nodded. “Aye. Because you don’t want it for glory. You want it for them.” He jerked his chin at Bolt and Than. “And that’s the kind of leader men follow ’til the world ends.”
Fly swallowed hard. “You…you really think?—”
Shamrock rolled onto one elbow, eyes warm, a rare, unguarded moment. “Hey. Don’t forget about me.”
Fly’s chest cracked open. He smiled, slow and steady, then slung an arm around Shamrock’s shoulders, drawing him in until their foreheads almost touched.
“Not a chance in hell.”
Shamrock’s grin returned, fierce and bright. “Good. ’Cause I’m not done corrupting you.”
