"How's Dylan?"
Willa glances at Dylan's monitors, checking his vitals. "Stable. He lost a lot of blood but the round missed the major vessels. He'll need surgery to repair the damage but he's going to make it." She starts cleaning her instruments. "You did good getting him back here. Another hour and we'd be having a different conversation."
The weight of those words settles in my chest alongside the pain. Another hour. That's how close we came to losing Dylan. How close I came to explaining to Reagan that the man she loves died because I couldn't move fast enough, couldn't protect him well enough.
Movement in the doorway makes me look up.
Rachel stands there with Lucas pressed against her side. Her eyes track over me—the blood soaking my gear, the bruising already visible through the gaps in Willa's wrapping, the evidence of violence written across my body. Something fierce flashes across her face before she moves forward.
Lucas sees me and his expression brightens despite everything. "Mr. Stryker! You came back!"
The kid's voice carries so much relief, so much trust. Like he never doubted I would return. Like promises mean something absolute in his world.
"Promised I would, didn't I?"
Lucas nods seriously. "You promised. And you keep your promises."
Rachel's hand tightens on Lucas's shoulder, but she's looking at me with an expression I can read clearly now—relief that I'm alive, gratitude for what we did out there, and something warmer underneath that makes my chest tight.
The blood on my hands isn't metaphorical anymore. It's Dylan's. It's the hostiles we killed. It's the physical evidence of what happens when I go operational.
But Rachel's not looking at me like I'm a monster. She's looking at me like I'm exactly what she needed me to be.
17
STRYKER
Kane's waiting when I leave the medical bay, his gear still showing evidence of the firefight with Kessler's team. Blood spatters his vest in patterns that aren't his own. His face shows nothing, the same blank mask he wears during operations.
"My office," he says without preamble. "We need to talk."
I follow him through the operations center where Tommy sits at his usual station, fingers flying across keyboards as he monitors Committee communications. Sarah coordinates logistics from her console while Mercer reviews displays despite the compression wrapping visible under his shirt. The base hums with controlled activity, the team working together to monitor any fall out from our most recent run-in with Kessler and the Committee.
Kane's office is small and spartan, equipped with the secure communications array necessary for coordinating Echo Ridge missions. He closes the door behind us and moves to the display mounted on the wall, pulling up intelligence feeds Tommy compiled during our extraction.
"Kessler may be dead," Kane says, his finger tracing movement patterns on the screen. "But the Committee'scommunications suggest Webb isn't finished with this operation."
Dread settles low in my stomach. "Explain."
"Tommy intercepted encrypted chatter during our return to base. Webb's team is discussing asset redeployment and continuing the witness elimination protocol." Kane pulls up the relevant intercepts, lines of decoded text scrolling across the display. "They lost Kessler and multiple operators during our engagement, but Webb's treating those casualties as acceptable losses in pursuit of a larger strategic objective."
"Lucas," I say flatly.
"Lucas," Kane confirms. "Webb lost a valuable asset in Kessler, but he's not backing down. If anything, the casualties are making him more determined."
If Webb decides Lucas remains a priority target, he'll just send someone else. Someone potentially more dangerous than Kessler.
The communications terminal on Kane's desk chimes with an incoming signal. Victoria Cross's distinctive encryption signature appears on the screen, and Kane accepts the connection without hesitation.
Cross's face fills the monitor, elegant and composed despite the late hour.
"Kane. I trust your team survived the engagement with Kessler's forces?"
"Casualties minimal. Kessler eliminated. What do you have for us?" Kane's tone suggests he already knows this isn't a social call.
"Webb has deployed Reeve," Cross says.
The name alone makes my jaw tight. Reeve. The Committee's shadow operative, the one they send when Kessler's direct approach fails. Where Kessler was brutal and efficient, Reeve is patient and methodical. He doesn't rush operations or makemistakes born from overconfidence. He hunts with the kind of precision that makes him nearly impossible to detect until he's ready to strike.
