Page 57 of Searching for Valor

He rolled onto his side, and his prosthetic arm dug painfully into his ribs. With a grunt, he sat up and fumbled with the straps, his fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. Finally, he managed to detach it and toss it onto the floor. It landed with a heavy thunk, the metal gleaming dully in the faint light filtering through the curtains.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat. What a fucking joke. He was a broken mess, inside and out. Missing pieces, held together by scar tissue and sheer stubbornness. And now Zak thought a dog could fix him? Put him back together like some kind of puzzle?

He laid back down, his arm thrown over his eyes. Sleep tugged at him, but he resisted, not wanting to face the nightmares that always lurked in the dark.

But tonight, exhaustion won out.

chapter

twenty

The desert night was cold,the air biting at his face and stealing his breath. Sand crunched beneath his boots, whispering accusations he couldn’t quite make out. His palms were slick with sweat inside his gloves, and his chest was tight, too tight, as if the air itself was squeezing him, wringing the life from his lungs with every step.

Ahead, the jagged pathway twisted like a coiled snake, leading toward the compound nestled in the rocky valley below. The place looked almost serene, its gates flanked by twin guards and lazy patrols circling under dim lights—too calm, the kind of quiet that made his gut churn.

He adjusted his grip on his rifle, but his fingers didn’t seem to work correctly. His gloves felt wrong—too thick, too tight, too loose all at once. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own shallow breathing.

“Six, stay sharp,” Shane’s voice cut through the comms, sharp and commanding. Echo One. Master Chief Shane Trevisano. A legend.

Rylan tried to shake off the unease twisting in his gut as he scanned the compound through his NVGs. He was the youngest guy here, fresh from Green Team, still trying to prove hedeserved the SEAL Trident pinned to his uniform. Tonight was supposed to be his chance to earn it. His chance to show he wasn’t just some green kid tagging along for the ride.

But something was wrong.

He glanced sideways at Shane, crouched beside him with Jax on his other side. Even in the inky night, Rylan could see the tension etched into Shane’s face, the way his jaw clenched, the way his finger hovered near the trigger of his weapon as if he could sense the ambush waiting to spring.

“We a go?” Echo Two—Jaxon Thorne—asked quietly.

Shane hesitated. That was the first crack in the illusion of calm, and it sent a ripple through the team. Shane never hesitated. Jax, nicknamed “Steady” for his unshakable nerves, never faltered, either. But now even Jax looked uneasy, his dark-painted face turned toward Shane with a frown.

Rylan’s grip on his rifle tightened until his knuckles ached. If they were nervous, he had every reason to be terrified. He was the FNG here, the newbie. The one expected to watch, learn, and shut the hell up unless he had something important to say.

Something was wrong.

But he stayed quiet.

Shane finally nodded. “Two, Five, secure the perimeter. Set overwatch. Four, prep for traps. Three, Six, you’re with me. We breach, capture the HVT, and exfil clean.”

Rylan’s stomach twisted. He knew his place—stay in line, follow orders, don’t fuck up. But he couldn’t help the flicker of doubt that surged through him when Echo Three, Alejandro Ramirez, muttered, “I like the exfil part. This pinging on anyone else’s shit-o-meter?”

Rylan swallowed the knot of apprehension in his throat. If even Alejandro, their steady-as-hell medic, was feeling uneasy, then shit was definitely about to hit the fan.

“You sure you don’t want me inside with you?” Jax asked.

“I need you on overwatch,” Shane said firmly, cutting off any further debate. “Now cut the chatter. We stick to the plan. Get in, get out, go home. Hooyah?”

A muted chorus of “Hooyah” echoed through the comms, but it lacked the usual conviction.

Rylan tried to ignore the tension crackling between Shane and Jax. This was the job. There was no room for doubt, no time for second-guessing. His hands trembled as he checked his gear one last time, then tightened his grip on his weapon.

“Move out,” Shane ordered.

Rylan’s stomach twisted. He was supposed to move now, follow orders, fall into step like clockwork. But something held him back, an invisible hand pressing on his shoulders, pinning him in place.

“Six, what’s your status?” Shane barked into his comm.

“I…” Rylan’s voice cracked, and he clamped his mouth shut, forcing himself to nod instead. He shifted his weight, his legs trembling beneath him, and fell into position behind Shane and Alejandro.

They moved forward, their steps silent on the sand. The compound loomed larger with every step, its walls casting jagged shadows in the moonlight. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own breathing. Sweat stung his eyes, and he resisted the urge to wipe it away. He tried to focus on the mission, on the steps they’d drilled over and over during training. One step at a time. Stay sharp. Watch Shane’s six.

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