"They do," he agreed. Then he hesitated, the question that had been sitting in the back of his mind finally finding its voice. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why buffalo?" He watched her face closely, then looked down at the metal in his hand. "I need to know why you see me in them."
Mei didn't answer right away. She didn't give him a platitude or a rehearsed speech. Instead, she looked at him, really looked at him, and something in her eyes, deepened, like she had been waiting for this moment without knowing it.
"Because you’re grounded," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper in the room. "You don't chase attention. You don't need to be seen to be strong." She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her touch grounding him. "Buffalo move with purpose," she continued. "They endure. They protect what’s behind them. They walk into the wind, not away from it." Than swallowed, the lump in his throat growing tight. "They carry the weight," she went on, her eyes searching his. "They don’t run from storms. They face them, and when they stop, the world adjusts around them."
His breath left him slowly. He thought of BUD/S, of the grueling months ahead, of the discipline it took to just keep going when a man’s mind wanted to quit. He thought of the way he held himself back, the way he watched over his wrestling team as their captain, his family, her.
Mei crossed the room, stepped close to him to reach up and feather her fingers through his hair. "I didn’t explain it earlier," Mei said, her voice gentle, apologetic almost. "Not because it didn’t matter. But because I didn’t think you needed words to understand it."
She smiled then, soft and sure, and leaned in to brush her lips against his. "You already live it."
For a moment, Than couldn't speak. The emotion rising in his chest was too big, too sharp. The noise of the world, the ocean, the impending training, the expectations, faded until there was nothing but the truth settling into his bones. He wasn't a symbol to her. He wasn't a checkmark on a diversity form or a representative of a people.
"So…not because I’m Lakota," he said finally, a trace of humor breaking through the thickness in his throat.
Mei shook her head, her eyes dancing slightly. "No. Because you’re you."
Something in his chest cracked open, a dam breaking free.
"Thank you," he said, the words carrying more weight than he knew how to say. "For seeing me."
She nodded once, leaning her forehead against his. "You're welcome."
He slipped the cuff links into the velvet bag with care, then nestled them inside with the folded tux. Turning from the bed, he pulled her into his arms and rested his forehead against hers.
“I’m not leaving this,” he said. It wasn’t a promise of logistics or timelines. It was something deeper. A vow of intention.
“I know,” she replied.
When he finally stepped out into the morning, the ocean still breathing behind him, the weight he carried wasn’t loss.
It was the beginning of the rest of his life.
13
WILD Headquarters, Conference Room, Outskirts of Kamloops, British Columbia.
Blair was losing her battle between common sense and that sharp, traitorous pull toward Breakneck. Her mind told her professionalism was survival. The armor she’d worn for years was the only thing that kept her from mistakes, heartache, and men who disappointed her.
But her blood and body were ganging up on her.
The man who had saved her entire detachment half an hour ago, who had moved through gunfire like the laws of physics bent for him, was now insisting on being part of the op.
Tuned up my torso and tazed my nads.
She winced at the memory. Anger flared, hot, clean, protective. They’d dared to torture him.
They’d dared to hurt a man like that, and hitting him below the belt? She wanted to put a bullet through Ryker herself.
Staying and icing himself was the smarter call. Overwatch meant lying on his bruised torso, stomach, and genitals, hell on earth. How was he even upright? How had he walked into her HQ like that? He had to have been running on pain, adrenaline, and whatever discipline they carved into this warrior.
The truth was, she didn’t know much about Tier 1 or Navy SEALs. She didn’t know if this kind of brutality was just another Wednesday for them. She licked her lips and inhaled hard, trying to steady the riot inside her. She wanted to know it firsthand, hands on, body to body, eyes closed, letting herself feel everything she had spent years refusing.
She had never felt anything like this in her life. Hungry, nervous, jittery, her stomach full of butterflies that did not feel fragile at all. They felt urgent. Alive. Dangerous.
