That earned a low chuckle from most of the men at the table.
“You’ll all be debriefed individually in the coming days,” the analyst added. “Expect psych evals, medical screening, and a minimum seventy-two-hour lockdown while your status is cleared through official channels.”
“Copy that,” Viper said. He fucking hated standard protocol, but he knew better than to argue with it.
“We’ll contact you when clearance is granted for contact with external parties.”
They all knew what that meant for them, and especially for Viper.
Ward.
The screen dimmed, and the lights came up. Chairs scraped as the officers began to stand. The meeting was over for now. But the real reckoning, Viper knew, was still ahead. The hall outside the briefing room was colder than it should’ve been for this location.
Man, am I glad I’m not paying their air con bill.
Viper led the team down a series of corridors until they hit a T-junction where they met a young MP standing waiting with a clipboard and a neutral expression. “Rooms are preassigned,” the MP said. “You’ve all been cleared for single-occupancy quarters. Mess is open for another hour. Rec room’s two halls down, but you’re still under restricted movement. You’ll be escorted if you leave this floor.”
Viper nodded. “Copy.”
The MP handed out keys, one at a time, without a hint of ceremony. Just government-issue rest, boxed and rationed like everything else in this job. “You’ll be notified if you’re needed for follow-up debriefings,” the MP added. “Get some sleep, gentlemen.”
They dispersed quietly, years of habit kicking in. No one said much. No one had to. They moved like a shadow unit again, and they preferred it that way.
Trace passed Viper and clapped his shoulder. “You need anything, knock.”
“I will.”
“Same,” Kaze muttered. “Though if they show up at 0400 again with a clipboard, I’m claiming PTSD.”
“Pretty sure you already have it,” Zero drawled, rubbing the back of his neck as he vanished down the next hallway. “It just shows up as sass.”
Reaper lingered the longest, watching Viper with his usual hard-edged calm. “You good?”
“Ask me when I’ve seen my Grá Croí.”
Reaper thankfully didn’t press him to talk about his feelings or some shit. He just nodded once and left without another word.
Viper keyed into his assigned room. The door swung open on silent hinges, revealing a standard bunk, a footlocker, a desk with a bolted-down lamp, and a folded set of PTs on the edge of the mattress. He shut the door behind him, set his gear on the desk, and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees. For the first time since they’d geared up for Operation Caldera, he was on his own, with only silence to keep him company.
He stripped out of his uniform and pulled on the PTs, noting the tag was still crisp—brand-new, as if they’d just come out of the bag. He lay back on the mattress, hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He could hear faint footsteps in the hall, the distant hum of base operations still ticking along.
Even though the first few battles had gone in their favor, the war wasn’t over. Not yet. But for now? He let himself breathe.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The soundof the helicopter’s rotors still echoed in Ward’s ears as the door slammed shut behind him. The cool, sterile air of the hangar hit like a slap to the face after the suffocating ash and tropical humidity of Saonae. He didn’t bother to hide the stumble in his step—he was tired, dehydrated, and utterly alone now that Viper and the others had been led away.
The Navy MP beside him didn’t speak. He was young, sharp around the eyes, and the man kept a firm grip on the butt of his sidearm. He marched like he was escorting a high-value prisoner. Ward wasn’t sure if that was protocol or paranoia, but either way, it left a sour taste in his mouth.
At least they didn’t immediately put me in cuffs or chains.
They passed through two sets of blast-proof doors and a retinal scanner before descending in a security lift Ward could feel more than see. It felt like the concrete building had swallowed them whole, and every inch of the place reeked of secrets and containment.
The plain, utilitarian hallway they arrived in looked like a holding wing. None of the doors had names, and the hallway had no windows. The MP stopped in front of one of the doors, keyed in a code without meeting Ward’s eyes, and the door clicked open. “Inside.”
Ward stepped past him, slow and deliberate.
The room was… fine. Spartan, but not cruelly so. It had a twin bed, clean linens, a desk, a chair, and a water bottle on the table. There was even a small en-suite bathroom visible through an open door.
