He moved to stand behind Oren, resting a hand gently on his shoulder before turning him slightly so he could see his eyes.“Tell us what he said, Oren.”
Oren swallowed hard and then nodded.“He didn’t threaten me outright,” he began, his voice controlled, but tight.“But he said things that ...triggered me.He knew about me being a POW, the scars, the blood, the way I—”
“Stop.”Ty’s voice was harsh.“Don’t go back there, stay here with us.”He hated this.Hated the thought of Oren standing there, reliving those horrors.
Oren nodded, took a deep breath, then continued, voice dropping lower.“It shut me down, Ty.Completely.I was frozen.Couldn’t move, couldn’t think.He knew exactly what to say.If he’d wanted to hurt me, I wouldn’t have been able to do a fucking thing to stop him.”
Ty moved closer, pulling him in tighter.“That’s not okay.None of that is okay.”
Dale brushed a hand down Oren’s back.“I’m going to rip that fucker’s spleen out through his throat.”
“Eli’s bringing in new therapists,” Ty said.“I think it’s time you talked to one.Someone who can help.”
Oren nodded, expression tired but resolute.“Yeah.After freezing like that, I think so, too.”He looked at him and Dale.“I can’t have that happen at a time when I need to protect either of you.I’ll talk to them when they arrive.”
Ty kissed the top of his head, his voice rumbled low.“Good.”And I’m going to have a little conversation with Carson Rourke before he leaves.If for no other reason than to punch him right in the damn face.
Oren looked up at both him and Dale.“Right, then, before I forget I have work to do, I’m going to head back to the site.See you both later?”
Dale nodded and leaned in to kiss them both.“Damn straight, Ty’s cooking at my place tonight.”
Ty jolted.“I am?”
Dale winked as he walked backward out of the office.“Yep, I’m not going to be the only one cooking in this relationship, so you’d better bring your culinary A game, my man.”
He was out the door and gone before Ty knew it.
Oren laughed.“Shit, Ty, what the hell are you going to do?I don’t think Mr I-can-make-pasta-from-scratch there is going to like your go-to sloppy joes.”Oren followed Dale’s move and practically moon walked out the door.“I’ll leave you to scroll through recipes for the afternoon and look forward to trying whatever you come up with tonight.”
Ty shook his head and wondered at how his life had changed in such a short amount of time, and how happy he was that it had.He was looking forward to dinner tonight, God knew what he was going to cook.But for now, he had work today.And a construction worker to send off in style.
****
Bateman stood at thehead of the long reclaimed-wood table of the conference and planning room of Ridge House, arms crossed, eyes moving across the familiar faces of the remaining Pathfinders.As the leader of the team, his presence grounded the room.Marsh had called the meeting, and when Marsh called a meeting, everyone showed up, because he was usually sharing intel he’d picked up from his intelligence work.
Ricky leaned back in his chair, foot propped on the edge of the table, hands crossed across his stomach.Hogan sat quietly near the back, flipping through things on a tablet.Dale was seated beside Ricky, hands steepled, jaw tensed.Marsh paced near the big monitor at the front, a tablet in one hand.
“We’ve got a problem,” Marsh said without any preamble, clicking the monitor to life using the tablet.It displayed a map of the Ridge overlaid with red markers.“Or more than likely, several.”
He clicked again, and another overlay appeared—flight paths, timestamps, static images.“We’ve recorded over a hundred separate attempts in the last four weeks to breach our security cameras and perimeter sensors.Mostly low-grade hackers, easily repelled.But it’s persistent.”
Ricky whistled.“Damn, Marsh.For a guy with only one leg, you sure manage to be scarily competent.”
Marsh shot him a dry look.“I’m missing a leg, Ricky, not IQ points.Unlike some of us.”
Bateman chuckled, but the levity faded quickly as the team absorbed the gravity of what Marsh was laying out.
“And it’s not just external hacks,” Marsh continued.“We’ve logged two physical drone flyovers—cheap civilian models but controlled like recon scouts.Someone’s watching us.”
Dale leaned forward.“And we are sure this has nothing to do with Carson?”
Bateman went still, the kind of stillness that sucked the heat out of a room.When he went predator mode and turned his gaze on you, it was like being skewered by a spotlight.Dale had seen seasoned operatives stumble under that look.Bateman could strip you bear with nothing but a look—dragging truths out of the dark like a confession from your bones.Add to that the resting homicide face, and the fact he hated being kept in the dark, and you had a recipe for dread.
“Something you need to tell us, Sergeant?”Bateman’s voice was calm, low—but it hit like a hammer.
Dale winced.Shit.It was never good when the man started to throw your rank around.
Marsh shot him a sympathetic look and shook his head.“It could be, and I am not ruling that out, but I don’t think so.Besides, there’s more.Dale, I think you should tell them what Oren went through.What Carson said to him.”
