"We know," Caleb said. "We're not asking you to force her. We're asking you to talk to her. Explain what's at stake."
I looked at Ethan.
He was watching me, steady and calm.
"If she were to find out she was on the wrong side of the story," Ethan said quietly, "would that change her mind?"
I thought about that.
Amelia had spent her entire life chasing the truth. Exposing corruption. Holding power accountable.
If she found out her sources were lying to her—using her—would that change her mind?
Yes.
It would.
But I didn't see how that was possible.
"Maybe," I said.
Ethan nodded, took a sip of his beer. "Charleston has a way of shaking out the truth."
The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous.
I didn't know what he meant.
Little did I know, the truth was about to find me.
We sat there until the sun started to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
The water was warm around our ankles. The beer was cold in our hands.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged somewhere.
Not just to a unit. Not just to a mission.
But to a family.
My brothers talked and laughed and told stories, and I soaked it all in, memorizing the sound of their voices, the way they moved, the way they looked at each other with that particular brand of brotherly affection that was equal parts love and mockery.
I thought about Amelia. About the ladies taking her to lunch. About her sitting across from Meghan and Hazel and Natalie and Camille and Lexi, trying to figure out how she fit into all of this.
I hoped they were being kind to her. I thought they probably were.
"What are you thinking about?" Gideon asked.
"Amelia," I admitted.
Jacob grinned. "You've got it bad."
"Yeah," I said. "I do."
"Good," Caleb said. "She seems like she can handle you."
"She can," I said. "Better than I can handle myself, probably."
Ethan chuckled. "That's how you know it's real."
