Echo spoke from the end of the table. "I intercepted short bursts right before we made contact. Not militia signals. Cleaner. Not encrypted like ours, but organized. Too structured for local groups."
Rogue exhaled hard through his nose. His eyes locked on Carver. "Organized and waiting."
Torch looked from Ghost to Carver. "Who confirmed Bear's location? What source gave the green light?"
Carver stayed still. "It came through formal channels."
Ghost's patience snapped. "Name."
"Doesn't matter," Carver said, flat and final. "It does if they almost got one of mine killed." Ghost's voice went quiet in a way that made men nervous.
Carver's eyes narrowed. "Careful. You're accusing my people."
"You handed us bad intel. That's not an accusation. That's what happened."
Carver leaned forward, arms still folded, jaw set. "The source passed vetting. Multiple layers. If something slipped, it didn't come from this side."
Torch spoke before Ghost could. His voice stayed quiet, but there was steel underneath. "And if it didn't slip? If it was placed?"
That thought hit the room hard. Nobody moved.
Reaper shifted, breaking the silence. "You think this was a dry run?"
Ghost shook his head. "No. It felt like the beginning of something bigger."
Rogue shoved his chair back. The scrape cut through the tension like a blade. "You're telling me someone inside our chain fed them our op? You hear how that sounds?"
Before Ghost could answer, Carver leaned in, heat rising in his voice. "It's insane. Nobody in my chain leaks intel. Nobody."
Rogue snapped his attention to him. "Then explain how they knew we were coming. Explain how they were set up like they had our playbook."
"Bad timing. Worse luck."
Rogue's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Luck didn't blindfold Bear and prep him for Tier One operators. Luck didn't fortify that compound. Someone tipped them. Someone with access."
Carver's jaw went tight. "Watch your mouth, sailor."
"Why?" Rogue leaned forward, eyes hard. "Because it's true? Because if the intel came from your side, you have to answer for it?"
Ghost let them go for another few seconds, watching Carver's reactions. The man's jaw kept clenching. Micro-expressions Ghost had learned to read over years of interrogations and briefings. Carver wasn't lying outright, but he was editing. Leaving parts out.
Ghost finally spoke. "Enough. Bear didn't almost die by chance. We need to face that."
Anders lifted a hand. The argument died.
"That's enough for tonight," he said. "Stand down. Clean up. Get some sleep."
Sleep. Ghost's knuckles pressed against his thigh. Across from him, Carver's expression stayed blank, but that jaw kept working.
Anders looked directly at Ghost. "I better not hear about any of you going after each other before sunup. Clear?"
Ghost gave a short nod.
"Dismissed."
Chairs scraped. Boots scuffed against concrete. The SEALs moved out fast and silent. The Rangers followed slower, their gazes lingering. Ghost caught it and didn't like what he saw.
As the others filed out, Anders called after him. "Ghost. My office. Zero six hundred."
