Page 99 of Lost Hope

“Don’t walk away from this one,” Griff said softly.

The monitor beside the bed kept its steady rhythm as Ronan considered his response. He had no plans to walk away. But if Maya knew what was good for her, she probably should run. Far and fast.

Problem was, he wasn’t strong enough to hope she would.

50

THE WEIGHT OF TRUTH

The Knight Tacticalhangar gleamed in the morning sun, housing sleek aircraft worth more than most small countries’ GDPs. Ronan leaned against the nose of a modified Bell 429, trying not to think about how this might be the last time they gathered here. Their mission was over. No more team, no more purpose binding them together.

The thought hit harder than he’d expected.

His team—former team now—drifted in one by one, finding their usual spots without discussion. Old habits. Zara hopped up on a work bench, legs swinging. Kenji settled cross-legged on the floor, his back against a tool chest. Izzy and Deke stood near the helicopter’s tail, while Axel took up his customary position against the wall, arms crossed. Griff, as usual, hung just outside the open door.

They weren’t Knight Tactical. Never had been, really. Just a thrown-together squad that somehow became family. And now ...

But that wasn’t why they were here.

“So,” Izzy broke the silence, characteristically direct. “Anyone want to tell me why we’re having this reunion at zero-dark-thirty?”

Kenji’s dark eyes moved from Griff to Ronan and back again. “Something’s been weighing on you both. Since Copenhagen.” It wasn’t a question.

“An excellent catch there, Doctor.” Griff moved to face the group, hands clenched at his sides. His voice stayed steady as he told them about Copenhagen, about the underground lab he and Ronan raided, about the woman strapped to the examination table—young, blonde, looking so much like his sister that for a moment he’d forgotten where he was. About the doctor who’d been using her as his latest test subject. About the shot he’d taken, killing a terrible man, but a civilian non-combatant.

A move the Navy would never condone.

When he finished, the hangar fell silent except for the distant whir of ventilation fans.

Deke moved first, crossing to Griff. “You did what you had to. Combat situation, split-second decision.”

Kenji nodded slowly. “That intel was messed up from the start. We shouldn’t have been there blind like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Izzy’s voice was soft, hurt. “We’re a team.”

“My call,” Ronan said. “I ordered Griff to keep quiet. Took responsibility myself. I was CO. Brass was going to end my career no matter what. No reason for Griff to go down in flames, too. I ordered him not to tell anyone.”

“What?” Kenji looked like he’d been slapped. A fair reaction. “Why?”

Now, face-to-face with these extraordinary folks, the full weight of his stupidity crashed down on him. He ducked his head. “I figured there was no need to burden you guys. It was my decision. My consequences.”

“And mine,” Griff added.

Yeah. And that.

“Idiots,” Zara muttered, but there was no heat in it. “Both of you. Carrying this alone.”

Axel hadn’t moved from his position against the tool chest, arms crossed. But his eyes, when they met Ronan’s, held understanding rather than judgment. “That makes a stupid kind of sense. Right instincts. Wrong answer.”

Ronan clenched his jaw against the wave of emotion building behind his throat. Yeah. For sure. He should have had more faith in his team. His friends. Might have kept him from staying away these past three years.

Painful lesson learned.

Movement at the hangar entrance caught his attention. Christian and Jack stood in the doorway, clearly having caught the tail end of Griff’s confession.

“Sir,” Ronan started, but Jack waved him off.

“About time this came out,” Christian said, his face carefully neutral.

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