Torch cut in without missing a beat. "Except Bear."
Emily's head lifted immediately. "Bear? I thought he was still stationed in Georgia. He's a PJ, right?"
Ghost shook his head. "He got reassigned to our unit about five weeks ago."
Rachel watched Emily's face carefully. There was something in her expression, surprise, maybe disappointment.
"He's not here?" Emily asked, her voice a little quieter now.
"Arizona," Logan said. "Helping his uncle fix storm damage on their ranch. He'll be back tomorrow."
Emily nodded, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Oh. That's good. I mean, that he's helping family. Sorry I missed him."
Rachel caught the shift in her tone. The way her shoulders dropped just slightly. The way her gaze moved back to her plate instead of lingering on the group.
Interesting.
Ghost either didn't notice or chose not to comment. He turned back to Torch. "Anyway. Now that everyone's here..."
Torch turned slightly, tongs still in one hand, an eyebrow lifted. "So," he said, glancing back at the grill. "You going to finally admit what you've been building?"
Ghost didn’t answer right away. He looked at Torch, then Predator, then down the line, each face familiar, then his eyes slid to Rachel, and he exhaled.
"Six months," he said. "That's what I've got left in my contract. After that, I'm taking the out. I won’t be resigning."
The table went quiet. Even the sizzle from the grill felt distant.
Torch stared at him for a beat, then cracked a slow smile. "Knew it."
Ghost reached over and clapped his shoulder. "And you're taking the lead."
Torch blinked once, the grin never faltering. "Yeah. Okay."
"You've earned it," Ghost said. "No one knows this team better. You've got the discipline. The instinct. You'll keep them sharp."
Reaper lifted his beer in quiet confirmation. Beside him, Predator raised his without a word. Rogue let out a low whistle, but his grin was different this time, proud, not cocky. "Damn. End of an era."
Falcon looked up from where he leaned against the railing, beer halfway to his mouth. "You're really stepping out?"
Ghost met his eyes without hesitation. "I'm not stepping out. I'm building something new."
"I bought a hangar," Ghost said. "Private airfield just north of Oceanside. Secluded, locked down, fully outfitted. We're halfway through the buildout, reinforced infrastructure, modular ops rooms, full comms suite. It's going to be a private black ops firm. Mission-driven. No red tape. No politics. Just the right people doing the right work."
Predator leaned back, eyebrows raised. "Damn."
"It's called Ghost Division," Rachel added, a smirk playing at the edge of her mouth.
Rogue nearly choked on his beer. "You named it after yourself?"
"Technically, she did," Ghost muttered.
That cracked the table wide open. Laughter erupted, bottles clinked, Torch called for a rebrand.
Ghost waited until it faded, then leaned in slightly.
"I'm extending an open offer," he said. "To all of you. No pressure or expectations. But if you want in, there's a place for you. You'll get clean contracts, full autonomy, no politics. Just good work."
Torch's grin widened. "You'll need a man on the inside, for now. But keep the seat warm 'til my clock runs out."
