Max roars, tackling Klashnev just as he reaches the steps, the two of them crashing to the ground.
Cole’s there in a heartbeat, zip-tying Klshnev’s wrists, while I cover them, my rifle trained on the pilot, who throws up his hands.
We’re panting, adrenaline spiking, the plane’s engine whining as it powers down. Klashnev curses in Russian, his eyes wild, but we’ve got him. We haul him back to the cabin, the ledge just as treacherous on the return, but we make it, bruised and alive.
That night, over cheap whisky in a safehouse not unlike this one, we laugh for the first time, bonded by the near-death rush and the win…
Back in the present, I take another drag on my cigar, the memory fading as the whisky warms my chest.
That mission made us brothers, but it also taught me how fast things can go wrong. If this mission—unraveling Knox & Rain, protecting Miles—crashes, it’s not just my career on the line. It’s the Guard’s legacy, the trust of men like Cole and Max, the memory of Symon and Kent.
Mr. G’s warning from yesterday sits heavy:Consequences. Severe ones.
Getting kicked out would gut me, strip away the only life I’ve known. But then I think of Miles—his giggles in the bath, his fire when he stood up to me, the way he called me Daddy—and I know I’d risk it all for him.
My darling Little Lawyer is worth it.
There’s no question of that in my mind.
No doubt whatsoever.
I’m about to say something when the door bursts open, and Miles, Richie, and Billie tumble in, their rompers crinkled, their faces flushed from play.
Miles is clutching Bean, his eyes bright but his pout dramatic.
“Daddy, we’restarving!” Miles declares, hands on his hips.
Richie nods. “Yeah, we need food, like,now!”
Billie chimes in, “We cleaned up the living room, promise!”
I glance at Cole and Max, who are already grinning. Cole checks the decoding rig, its lights still blinking.
“This thing’s got at least two hours left,” Cole says, standing. “Plenty of time to fire up the grill.”
I laugh, stubbing out my cigar.
“BBQ time, then,” I say, my stomach rumbling and making the Little laugh. “Let’s feed these boys before they stage a revolt.”
The boys cheer, and Miles’ eyes meet mine, a spark of joy in them that makes my heart kick.
I stand, brushing his shoulder as we head out, the mission looming but the promise of ribs and laughter pulling us forward.
Whatever’s on that flash drive, whatever’s coming, I’ll face it—with Miles, with my brothers, with everything I’ve got.
The sun casts a golden glow over the grassy clearing outside the safehouse, the air thick with the scent of pine and sizzling meat.
The barbecue’s set up on a stone patio near the cabin’s porch—a massive grill Cole hauled out from the shed, its flames licking at racks of ribs and burgers.
I’m flipping patties, my sleeves rolled up, sweat beading on my forehead despite the cool mountain breeze.
Cole’s tending a pile of corn on the cob, slathering them with butter, while Max’s mixing a bowl of coleslaw, shaking his head as he hunches over a folding table.
“Why do I have to do thesalad?” Max spits. “Whatever.”
The creek nearby gurgles, a soothing backdrop to the crackle of the fire and the low hum of our banter. Miles, Richie, and Billie are sprawled on a blanket nearby, their rompers bright against the grass, giggling over a game of Go Fish with a deck of cartoon animal cards.
I glance at Miles, his smile radiant as he laughs, Bean tucked beside him. He’s so happy, his Little side shining in a way that makes my chest ache.
