“You sticking around?”Oren asked.
“For a bit,” Aiden said.“We came up to help if you want it.We’ll back off if you don’t.”He looked over, measuring without making it feel like a test.“I’m thinking you guys are in it for the long haul for what it’s worth.”
“We most definitely are,” Oren said.“Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Aiden said.“Call Marsh.Walk the fence.Then go find your two and get the balance between you right.”He tipped his chin at Deefer.“We’ll do another lap while you shower.Try not to steal my dog before we leave.”
“No promises,” Oren said, and got half a smile for it.
By the time they reached the barracks door, Oren’s head had stopped buzzing.The problems hadn’t changed.He had, a little.He pulled his phone out and queued Marsh’s number.Fence first.Then Ty.Then Dale.All three in the daylight.
He scratched Deefer behind the ear because he hadn’t earned a dog yet, but he could admire one.Deefer closed his eyes like a saint.Aiden shook his head like he knew exactly what was happening.
“You’re so going to get a dog,” Aiden said.
“Probably,” Oren answered, then stepped inside to make the call.
Chapter Eleven
The range was a cavewith a heartbeat.Fans hummed.The lane light threw a hard ribbon down concrete and steel, bright enough to see the sights and nothing else.Ty lay prone on the mat, cheek welded to the stock, breath stacked into a clean count.The rifle settled into him like it had always been there.
Shot.Reset.Shot.Brass kissed the floor and skittered toward the dark.The target shape stayed honest under the lamp—torso and the ghost of a head—and Ty worked until the groups overlapped and his hands listened better than his head.
Boots behind him and he tensed.
“Don’t move,” Sam said, voice low and a little amused.“I’ll spot.”
Ty didn’t move.Sam slid into the next lane and unpacked like a ritual—scope, mags, a battered notebook, all with the kind of calm that made bad men nervous.
“Send five,” Sam said.
Ty sent five.The rifle bucked and came home.Sam watched through glass and called them like weather.
“High left by an inch.Corrected.Three in the pocket.Fifth’s a hair wide—your shoulder argued with your head for half a second.”
“Head’s loud today,” Ty said.
