“Callum?”
“East side. Staying back unless we need official intervention.”
Finn nodded. The second line of defense was set. Ray in the shadows with her crossbow. Callum ready with his badge and his weapon. Finn, Zac, and the others grabbed their own handguns. They were positioned to back up the team if things went sideways.
They weren’t running point anymore. But they were still sharp. Still ready.
At the comm station, Lincoln’s voice cut through the quiet tension. “They’ve stopped moving. Four hundred meters out, just inside the tree line.”
“Waiting?” Theo asked.
“Or watching.” Lincoln’s fingers moved across the keyboard. “Thermal shows two bodies. No visible weapons, but that doesn’t mean anything at this range.”
“Can you get a better image?”
“Working on it. The angle’s bad from the eastern camera. I can try the drone, but the noise might spook them.”
“Hold off on the drone. We’ll approach quiet.” Theo turned to his team. “Bear, Derek, you’re with me. Scarlett, you take the south approach—come around behind them. We’ll box them in.”
Scarlett nodded once and moved for the door.
“Comms check in sixty seconds,” Theo added. “Radio silence after that unless we’ve got contact.”
The team moved toward the door. Theo first, then Bear and Derek. Scarlett had already slipped out through the side exit to take her flanking position.
Finn stepped forward without thinking. His body moved before his brain caught up, decades of instinct overriding twenty years of retirement. He was halfway across the room before Bear turned.
“Dad.”
Finn stopped.
Derek had paused too, looking back. His eyes met Finn’s, and something passed between them that words couldn’t hold. A few years ago, Derek had been drowning. PTSD so bad he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function, could barely hold his life together. Finn had watched his son struggle, had felt helpless in a way combathad never made him feel. And now here Derek stood—steady, present, ready to walk into danger for his family.
“You good?” Finn asked him. Just Derek. Father to son.
Derek’s mouth curved slightly. “Yeah, Dad. I’m good.”
It was true. Finn could see it was true. Hard-won and battle-tested, but true.
Bear’s face was calm. Patient. “We’ve got this, Dad.”
Three words. Simple. Certain.
Finn heard everything his son wasn’t saying:Trust us. We’ve got this.
He wanted to say something. Wanted to tell them both that he was proud of them, terrified for them, that watching them walk out that door was harder than walking out himself had ever been.
“I know you do,” he managed.
Bear’s hand found Finn’s shoulder and squeezed once—a gesture that somehow contained everything neither of them could speak. Then he let go.
The door opened. Cold air rushed in, sharp and biting.
Bear and Derek walked into the night. Theo was already ahead of them, a shadow moving toward the tree line.
The door closed behind them. Cold air lingered for a moment, then faded.
Finn stood in the ready room, surrounded by the men he’d fought beside for thirty years, and watched his sons disappear into the dark.
