“You have my son in play.”
Will exhaled once, steady. “He’s on assignment, yes.”
A beat of silence—measured, weighted.
Then: “I want to be perfectly clear about something. If anything happens to him—anything—you understand the consequences.”
Caldwell wasn’t a man who ruffled easily, but the phrasing was a threat. Something cold slid down his spine—quiet, controlled, the kind of realization that rerouted entire careers. It wasn’t bluster. It was a fact. A reminder.
“I do,” he said. “And I haven’t forgotten our last conversation.”
Harrington had buried the boy so completely that even the Pentagon had never seen the truth. Maybe the President knew—but that wasn’t a question Caldwell intended to ask. And—Christ—Titus was one of triplets.
He almost offered condolences, but kept his mouth shut.
“Good,” Elias murmured, voice low and surgical. “Because Titus is walking into rooms he was born to navigate—rooms you and your operatives don’t belong.”
Will’s jaw flexed once.
“With respect, sir, he’s an asset. If he didn’t want the job, he wouldn’t be on my team.”
Elias made a quiet sound—half amusement, half derision.
“Titus volunteers for nothing. He reacts. He attacks. He survives. That is who he is.” A pause—sharp, precise. “But he is still my son.”
Will didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
Elias continued, colder:
“Your men left him in a desert. I expect the colonel to be held accountable.”
The call from Harrington—just before Titus had surfaced from that desert—had blistered Caldwell’s hide, skin peeled clean off. He still felt the burn.
He kept his tone even.
“I’m aware of what happened. And Genesis will be held accountable.”
He’d pulled Viper from the op but hadn’t yet told the man why. That was a conversation for another day.
Silence filled the line—longer this time, laced with something closer to warning than concern.
“See that they are,” Elias said. “Titus may not use my name, but you know exactly whose blood is in his veins. If he falls, the fallout won’t stay contained to your teams. It’ll go all the way to the top.”
Will stared at the wall, expression unreadable. “Understood. Is there anything else?”
A soft breath, sharp as a blade.
“Everything regarding my only living son is sensitive.” Harrington paused. “I trust you understand the stakes.”
The line clicked dead.
Caldwell stared at the silent phone, pulse heavy.
A ghost.
A hidden heir.
Titus.
