Yet, as Flash looked back at the font, the stone remained stubbornly solid. The physical magic had restored their bodies, but it hadn't solved the puzzle.
Tex stood up, his spine straight, his commanding aura instantly snapping back into place thanks to Twister's intervention. His eyes swept over the fully revived team before locking onto Fly, who was staring at his own hands in absolute shock, his brain suddenly flooded with oxygen and a terrifying new clarity.
Tex didn't waste a second. "Now what, Fly?"
“I haven’t got a fucking clue. But I’m not giving up.”
Everything was secondary to the way he was processing the events of what happened, not only at this present font but at the one where, as Cisco, he had died by her hand. He had no animosity toward her, no blame, no grudge. All that came to him were the words he’d said to her as he was dying. Those were the same words he’d said to her back in Herrera’s compound when he was losing blood. The old wound had been resurrected then, and what he thought he’d learned from the jungle had been Cisco’s knowledge of the Quechua he’d learned so he could tell Quri how he felt about her. Maybe he’d been riding like hell to that glade to get those words out before they both lost everything and went to black.
He scrambled toward her, wrapped his arms around her, and dragged her to him. “I learned your language,” he whispered. “I had to tell you. I was riding totellyou. We were doomed…both of us weren’t going to survive the night. I died loving you, and that is all that matters to me.”
23
When they got backto the estate, the dining room glowed with amber lamplight against centuries-old stone. The long table was laden with roasted meats, crusty bread, and wine that caught the light like liquid garnet. Fly picked at his food, his frustration a low-grade fever beneath his skin, but each time Alessia drifted into the room, refilling his glass, brushing past his chair, the heat subsided into something manageable.
She catered to him with deliberate care, her fingers trailing surreptitiously across his shoulder, his wrist, the back of his neck, each touch a silent promise that comforted him while his mind raced, devising, calculating, planning.
“You can’t save the world on an empty stomach,” she whispered.
Her teasing lifted some of the frustration weighing on him, but his mind immediately snapped back to the problem.Why is the math not working? What am I missing?
Easy leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath him, and expelled a long, weary sigh. "Are we done with the visions?" he asked, his voice carrying the rough edge of exhaustion. He looked from Fly to Flash to Lechuza, his eyesshadowed. "Because I'm not sure if I have any more room in my head and heart for any more of you two's trauma." He paused, his jaw tightening. "That time of history was terrifying."
Lechuza reached across the table, her fingers finding Flash's hand and interlacing with quiet intimacy. She looked at each of them in turn, Easy, Shark, Tex, the others, her throat working with emotion. "I can't express my gratitude enough to all of you," she said, her voice steady but thick. "For your support, your risk, your skills, and your compassion through all of it." She squeezed Flash's hand. "We still have a ways to go, and I know we'll succeed, because everything rides on it."
Easy leaned forward, his elbows hitting the table with solid weight. He held her gaze, unflinching. "Lady," he said, respect warming his tone, "you’re one of the toughest, most determined women I've ever met."
"He should know. He's married to a sassy piece of work," Shark interjected from down the table, a grin tugging at his mouth.
"I met her," Lechuza said, her lips curving into a knowing smile that spoke of shared understanding between women who loved difficult men.
Flash chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest. Easy looked at him, pointing a finger for emphasis. "She's a SEAL babe, Flash. A keeper."
"Hoo-yah!" The chorus erupted around the table, the battle cry bouncing off the stone walls, binding them together in the ancient ritual of warriors who had survived the impossible.
Easy's grin turned mischievous, the heaviness lifting momentarily from his shoulders. "Can I say, in the past, badass conquistador? Come on. Am I right?" He looked around the table, and the guys all nodded, some of them grinning, others raising their glasses in salute. "Can you still ride like that?"
Flash chuckled, shaking his head. "Leave it to you to take a turbulent time in history to an adrenaline rush."
"It's not just that," Easy continued, his expression sobering. He leaned forward, his voice dropping with genuine gravity. "Man, you gave her everything. I have so much respect for you." He stood, his chair scraping against the stone floor, and came around the table. Flash rose to meet him, and Easy grabbed him into a hard hug, clapping his back with the force of brotherhood. "I love you, man."
He pulled back, then bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to Lechuza's cheek. "Both of you rest easy," he murmured.
Tex rose, his commanding presence filling the room as he looked over the assembled team. "Get your asses to bed," he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. "All of you."
"Yes, sir, LT." Easy snapped a sharp salute, and the room emptied in a shuffle of chairs and fading footsteps, the weight of the day finally settling over them like a blanket.
But Tex remained. He moved to Fly's side, his hand coming down heavy on Fly's shoulder, pinning him to his chair with the pressure of rank and concern. "That includes you, Visionary."
Fly looked up, meeting his lieutenant's eyes. "I'll try to turn off my brain."
"Ten hours max," Tex said, his voice low and serious. "Then we move this forward."
Fly held up his hand, palm out, a gesture of understanding and commitment. "You don't have to say it. It rests on our shoulders, me, Flash, and Lechuza." He dropped his hand, his gaze steady. "We won't let you down."
Tex nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Fly's face. "You were targeted by Chaos himself, Fly. He might underestimate you, but we're counting on that."
The words hung between them, heavy with implication. Fly felt the weight of it, the strategy and the danger, coiling in his gut. "Thank you for believing in us."
