Trace gave a dry smile. “Contractor work. Some domestic, some not. I keep my exit plans loaded.”
“Appreciated,” Viper muttered, grabbing a roll of black tape to mark mags. “Color code them. Red stripe is blackout rounds, and the white is subsonic. I don’t want to guess if we’re under fire.”
“Done,” Juice said, already halfway through his stack.
The room had fallen into a rhythm as weapons were clicked into place. Gear was laid out, checked, and re-checked. No one talked much. They didn’t need to. His men were Tier One Operators.Every move had a purpose, and every silence was filled with understanding.
Viper paused only once, staring down at his assembled team—his brothers—and feeling, for just a second, the weight of what they were walking into. He hoped to God the brass were more thrilled to have one of the best teams on the planet back alive than they were about how the hell they managed to survive a volcanic blast.
Whatever happens, we’ll face it like we always have—together, loaded for war and ready for anything.
He glanced at the clock on the far wall. “We step off at 0500. That gives us six hours. Check your kits, hydrate, and get your heads right. This next phase is where the real war starts.”
A chorus of ‘yes Sir’s followed his directive, and he knew they’d follow it because each and every one of them had a stake in the outcome.
Kaze cracked his neck. “I’m taking the bunk near the stairwell. If anyone steals my boots, I will kill you.”
“You’re the only one who wears a size clown.” Juice was already walking out. “You’re safe.”
Reaper followed, nodding once to Viper. “See you at zero-dark.”
Trace clapped a hand over Viper’s shoulder before disappearing with Juice down the corridor.
Within minutes, the den was quiet again, and Viper exhaled slowly, then looked toward the room where he’d left Ward hours earlier. The warmth from the fire still lingered, but the edge of reality was creeping back in. His men were ready. The weapons were checked. The plan was solid. Now came the hard part—rest.
He grabbed the last bottle of water off the table, slung his sidearm, and followed the quiet path toward his and Ward’s room.
He stepped into the dim room and closed the door quietly behind him. Ward lay curled beneath the covers, one arm thrown over his head, breathing soft and steady. Moonlight spilled through the window, silvering the shadows across his bare throat and cheek, and Viper stood there for a long beat, just watching the man who owned his heart, body, and soul. After the last few days they’d had, his man, his love, his Grá Croí was utterly wrecked by exhaustion.
I still can’t believe that I’m yours and you’re mine.
He moved quietly, unbuckling his shoulder rig and setting the weapon down with care. He pulled his boots off and stripped out of his shirt. A sigh slipped through his chest like a pressure valve loosening after too many hours sealed shut.
He padded barefoot across the wooden floor and slid into bed behind Ward, curling his body around him. Ward stirred instantly, a soft sound catching in his throat as he rolled back into him, their legs tangling like they’d done it a thousand times before.
“Hey,” Ward murmured, voice low and sleep-rough.
“Hey.” Viper pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, his arm wrapping low around Ward’s waist. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” Ward whispered, thumb brushing Viper’s knuckles. “Been half-awake waiting for you.”
Viper held him tighter, grounding himself in the familiar rhythm of Ward’s heartbeat and the pulse of their mate bond. “Everything’s in motion. We move at five.”
Ward didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly, he asked, “Scared?”
He could’ve lied. Could’ve said ‘nah,’ or ‘I’ve got this,’ or ‘SEALs don’t get scared.’ But this wasn’t a debrief with the commanding officer. This was Ward asking him a question, and he, of all people, deserved an honest answer. “Yeah,” he admitted, burying his face into the curve of Ward’s shoulder. “Not of the op. Not of what’s waiting on the other side. I’m scared of losing this. Losing you.”
“You won’t,” Ward said without hesitation. “Not unless you run, and I know damn well you don’t run from anything.”
Viper gave a broken laugh. “Only into fire.”
“Exactly.” Ward twisted to face him in the dark and placed his hand flat to his chest over the warrior symbol that illustrated what they were to each other. “You never have to run alone again.”
Their eyes met, and Viper cupped Ward’s jaw. His thumb brushed over the spot just beneath his cheekbone. “I’ve fought wars.” He almost didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. “I’ve watched men die for our flag and country. But I’ve never once looked at a battlefield and thought, ‘I’d stay here forever if it meant keeping someone I loved safe.’” His voice cracked just slightly. “Until you.”
Ward blinked fast, breath catching. “You mean that?”
“Every goddamn syllable.” Viper pressed their foreheads together. “I love you. Not just in the I’d-die-for-you way. In the I-want-all-the-years-we-can-get way. The Sunday-morning-slow kind. The every-breath-you-take-is-mine kind.”
