That still hit me sometimes. A quiet, breath-stealing kind of relief.
Conversations dropped when they noticed me.
Not because I didn’t belong.
Because they didn’t know what I was about to do.
Cap’s gaze flicked to me. He didn’t tell me to leave. Didn’t ask why I was there.
He waited.
I took the empty chair near the end of the table. Not Wrecker’s. Not Ariel’s.
Mine.
The bell rang again.
Church was called.
Cap leaned forward, forearms braced on the table. “We’re here because we got one of ours back,” he said, voice steady. “And because the threat that took him is still breathing.”
A low murmur rippled through the room.
Scout shifted beside Ranger, jaw tight. Ghost didn’t move at all.
Cap continued. “This isn’t about victory. It’s about awareness. We don’t underestimate what we’re dealing with.”
He turned to Scout. “You ready?”
Scout nodded. “Yeah.”
The debrief was methodical. Locations. Timing. Guard patterns. The way they moved people. The way they watched the perimeter. The way they talked when they thought no one was listening.
I listened closely.
Not because I needed to relive it.
Because I needed to understand it.
“They knew the club,” Scout said. “Not details. But reputation. They were careful when Iron Battalion came up.”
Brutus huffed. “Smart bastards.”
“They talked about faces,” Scout continued. “Who mattered. Who rattled the hive.”
My spine went stiff.
“And?” Cap prompted.
Scout glanced at me. Just for a second.
“They mentioned Amanda,” he said.
The room went quiet.
Not tense. Not explosive.
Expectant.
