"Forever," Izzy confirmed cheerfully. "I'm already planning the commemorative t-shirts."
The invisible barrier cracked. Not gone—Griff could still feel the weight of his abandonment hanging between them—but cracked enough to let a little light through.
"We should review the intelligence," Ronan said, already shifting into command mode. "Griff, walk us through what you've found since yesterday's call."
The use of his name instead of 'brother' stung. But what did he expect after three months of silence?
They gathered around Zara's screens as Sarah pulled up her files. Griff stood back, letting Ronan run things. He'd never wanted command anyway—Tank used to joke that Griff was allergic to leadership, happiest alone on overwatch with his rifle and radio.
Tank. The absence of him was a physical thing, a gap in their formation they all felt but no one mentioned.
Sarah began explaining the Charleston Option in detail, her nervousness from the video call replaced with professional confidence. Financial trails, personnel movements, the scope of the conspiracy. With each revelation, the team's expressions grew grimmer.
"They're going to kill them all," Izzy said quietly. "Everyone on that list."
"Unless we stop them," Sarah said.
"We will," Ronan said with the quiet certainty that had made men follow him anywhere.
Griff noticed Sarah's slight bow of her head—a prayer, quick and subtle. He waited for the familiar irritation atreligious gestures, but it didn't come. Instead, he found it... steadying, somehow. Like Tank's pre-mission rituals, the ones they'd all pretended not to notice.
The team noticed he didn't react to her prayer. Deke and Kenji exchanged glances. Izzy's expression softened slightly.
"I should have called you sooner," Griff said suddenly, the words ripping out of him.
The room went quiet.
"Yeah," Ronan agreed. "You should have."
"But you called," Deke added. "That's what matters."
The tension didn't disappear, but it shifted. They were here. They'd come when he called, even after everything. That was who they were.
A knock at the door made everyone tense, hands moving to weapons.
"That'll be Doc," Sarah said, moving to answer it.
Doc entered carrying two large thermoses and a tactical bag that clinked suspiciously. She wore a simple blazer and slacks, and her pearls, looking like any well-dressed Charleston matron out for morning errands.
"Children," she announced. "I brought breakfast and ammunition. Not necessarily in that order."
"My kind of woman," Ronan called out. "Good to meet you IRL."
"Much better in person, dear boy. I can actually throw things at you if you misbehave." Doc surveyed the team with sharp eyes. "You're all much prettier than your files suggest. And taller than you looked on video."
"You have files on us?" Kenji sounded both offended and impressed.
"I have files on everyone. Coffee?" She held up one of the thermoses. "Made it at my rental. That espresso machine downstairs looked far too complicated for this early in the morning."
The small woman commandeered the kitchen. Deke followed, drawn by the promise of coffee and the energy of someone used to command.
"Former military?" Deke asked.
"Intelligence, darling. Far more dangerous."
Griff watched Sarah integrate with his team, not trying to be one of them, but finding her own space. Helping Zara with data correlation. Asking Kenji about encryption patterns. Letting Finn explain field medical procedures.
"She's why you came back."
