But we did it.
We’re here.
Alive.
But he knew the hardest part was yet to come. Convincing the brass that their survival made sense.
We made it.
Now we lie through our teeth.
The helicopter dipped again, changing direction, and the pilot’s voice crackled over the internal comms. “Approaching destination. Two minutes to secure airspace. Get ready.”
Everyone tensed in readiness. Viper met each of his men’s gazes, and then paused for a brief second on Ward before averting his gaze again. The reckoning was coming, and they were ready for war.
The Seahawk touched down with military precision, rotors kicking up a wash of heat and grit across the concrete tarmac of the secure base. From the moment the wheels hit, the shift was palpable. No more smoke or jungles here. Now, they were faced with walls, wire, and watchful eyes.
A full security team in Navy tactical gear waited just outside the bird. Their weapons were slung, but their postures were tight. Behind them stood a man with the salt-and-iron presence of someone who wore stars on his shoulders and didn’t have time for bullshit.
“Eyes up,” Viper whisper-commanded as he unbuckled his straps. “We’re not home yet.”
The ramp lowered, and the SEALs filed out in a clean formation, followed by Ward. Their bodies were stiff from the flight, but every step was coordinated. Uniformed personnel stood aside to let them pass, but the weight of silent stares followed every footfall like a shadow.
“Commander Rivers.” The base CO’s voice was sharp over the rotors as he stepped forward. “Welcome back from the dead.”
“Sir.” Viper snapped a textbook salute.
“I’d say it’s good to see you, but Christ, son—what the hell did you crawl out of?” The commander’s gaze swept over them. Their ash-caked clothes, blistered boots, and barely-contained expressions painted a brutal picture. “The Navy’s been burning holes in my phone for two days.”
“Couldn’t exactly call ahead, Sir,” Viper said evenly. “We were dark for a reason.”
“You were ghosted,” the CO countered. “KIA in a volcanic eruption. Intel had you under six tons of pyroclastic hell. Brass couldn’t spin it without confirmation, and since you were on an unsanctioned ghost op, there was no rescue team to send. The spooks at the Pentagon have been chewing concrete.”
Viper didn’t flinch. “We had a contingency. It worked.”
The commander nodded once, then turned to the personnel flanking the perimeter. “Take ‘em in. Full medical, full debrief, separate rooms.”
Then his gaze landed on Ward. “Who the fuck is he?” he demanded.
“A civilian, Sir.” Viper drew the commander’s attention back to him. “He’s an archeologist who picked the wrong island at the wrong time to run a dig on.” He didn’t dare look at Ward and hoped his Grá Croí would forgive him for sounding so dismissive of his life’s work.
And for making him sound like an idiot.
“He’s not on my books.” The commander nodded to a waiting MP in full kit. “Escort him to processing. He’ll go to holding until we figure out what in the hell to do with him.”
“Sir—” Viper started, stepping forward.
The CO cut him off with a hand. “Standard procedure, Commander. You don’t want the DOD crawling up your ass, you let this play out by the book. He’ll be fine. He’s not your concern anymore, and he sure as hell isn’t mine, because I don’t want the DOD crawling up my ass either.”
“The hell he’s not,” Viper growled low.
Ward stepped forward quickly, brushing his fingers against Viper’s arm in passing. The touch was fleeting but grounding. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We knew this part was coming.”
Viper clenched his fists but didn’t argue. Not here. Not now. He gritted his teeth as the MP motioned, and Ward turned, walking away without looking back.
“Come with me, gentlemen.”
The medical bay smelled like bleach and fluorescent fatigue. Viper sat shirtless on a narrow cot while a Navy corpsman ran a scanner over his chest, brows drawing tighter the longer the silence stretched.
