Page 163 of California Wild

He walked away.

Hayley’s stomach dropped, her heart aching in a way she didn’t know how to process.

She didn’t know what to do.

Chapter 24

The smell of gun oil and sweat clung to the air. The armory was quiet, except for the distant hum of conversation from the guys finishing their post-deployment gear checks. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, casting a sterile, too-white glow over the room.

Jesse sat at the long metal workbench, methodically cleaning his rifle, piece by piece, like it was muscle memory. The rhythmic scrape of the bore brush through the barrel, the soft click of reassembling parts—it was meditative.

Control. Order. Precision.

All the shit he could handle.

The other stuff?

Not so much.

He flexed his fingers, knuckles still sore from punching Caiden.

He exhaled slowly, pressing down the ache that had been riding him since they touched back down on American soil. It had been, what—three, four days? The team was still in the post-deployment cycle: debriefs, medical evaluations, equipment inspections. No action, just paperwork and check-ins.

Easy, in theory.

Except Jesse hadn’t stopped seeing that kid.

Seven years old.

Tiny. Barefoot. Standing in the middle of a burned-out jungle village, clutching a blood-soaked stuffed animal.

Jesse had frozen.

Just for a second.

But in that second, he wasn’t in the jungle anymore.

He was nine years old again. Standing in his childhood home in Pensacola.

His mom screaming. His dad’s hands around her throat.

And Jesse, lunging.

A kitchen knife in his small, shaking grip.

Not to kill.

Just to stop it.

And it had stopped.

For a little while.

Jesse swallowed, shifting in his seat, his knee bouncing. His leg always fucking bounced when his head got loud.

He needed to focus.

He checked the bolt assembly, wiped down the lower receiver. The weight of the rifle was solid in his grip, grounding. It was a job, a purpose, something real.

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