"A small building collapse. Minor miscalculation of the explosive load."
The banter continued through dinner—comfort food disguised as tactical necessity. Sarah found herself relaxing incrementally, the team's confidence infectious. They'd done impossible things before. Maybe they could do this too.
As dinner wound down, Deke stood. "We should pray."
Everyone gathered naturally, even Finn abandoning histhird helping of Doc's casserole. They formed a loose circle in the living room. Sarah noticed Griff didn't retreat to the edges this time.
"Lord," Deke began, his deep voice filling the space. "We thank you for bringing us together again. For this fellowship. For the chance to finish what Tank started."
"Protect the innocent tomorrow," Maya added quietly. "Give us wisdom to see the truth."
"Steady hands when it counts," Izzy contributed.
"And clear communication channels," Zara said, which earned a few smiles.
"Give us courage," Axel said. "To do what needs to be done."
"Protect this team," Kenji added. "Bring everyone home."
There was a pause, then Sarah found herself speaking. "Help us stop this evil. And... help me not let these people down."
"You won't," Ronan said firmly. "Lord, we trust Your plan. Give us strength for tomorrow. Guide our steps. And help us honor Tank's memory by protecting those who can't protect themselves."
Sarah opened her eyes slightly, glancing at Griff. His head was bowed, not fully but more than before. And when Deke said "Amen," she saw Griff's lips move with the word.
"Amen," echoed around the circle.
The team dispersed to final preparations, but Sarah stepped onto the back porch for air. The night was humid, Charleston's early spring weight pressing close. She heard footsteps behind her—Griff's familiar tread.
"You won't let us down," he said without preamble.
"You don't know that."
"I do." He moved to stand beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth. "You found what all our bulletsand experience couldn't. The money trail. The conspiracy. The ninety-second window."
"That's just data?—"
"That's intelligence. And intelligence wins wars." He turned to look at her directly. "Tank would have said you're exactly what we needed."
The mention of Tank from Griff, who rarely spoke of him, made her throat tight. "I'm scared," she admitted.
"Good. Means you understand the stakes." His voice softened. "But you're not alone. We've got you."
She looked up at him, this magnificent protector who'd lost so much, who was slowly finding his way back to faith and fellowship. "Griff?—"
"Yo, kids," Finn's voice carried from inside. "Admiral wants us front and center for a final briefing."
They stepped apart quickly, the moment broken but something settled between them. Tomorrow they'd face whatever came. Together.
Before she could go inside, Griff touched her arm. "Wait."
He reached into his shirt and pulled out the chain holding his dog tags. He slipped them off over his head and held them toward her. “Here. For luck.”
In the porch light, she could read the name: SULLIVAN, MARCUS T.
"Griff, no?—"
"Tank willed them to me." His voice was rough.
