Page 49 of California Wild

Click.

The line went dead.

Jesse exhaled slow and sharp.

His whole body buzzed.

Not with adrenaline.

With clarity.

This was the moment he’d been clawing his way toward. His spot. His identity. His goddamn life.

* * * * *

By the time Jesse pulled through the gates of Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, the sky was bright, crisp blue, the salty air sharp with the scent of the Pacific.

The moment his tires rolled past security, something settled in him.

This was where he belonged.

This was who he was.

Everything else—her, last night, the ache still buried deep in his ribs—it didn’t matter here.

All that mattered was the job.

And getting it right.

The briefing room was already packed. Jesse strode in, all business, scanning the faces of his teammates, the men he hadn’t operated beside in nearly a year.

Heath was there, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but Jesse caught the flicker of relief beneath his usual smirk.

Dominic Laredo sat next to him, legs stretched out, casually tapping his fingers against his knee like he was already running scenarios in his head.

Across the room, Isaac Rayleigh and Zach Reed said over satellite imagery, deep in conversation.

And at the front—

Platoon Chief Adam Carrington. Boss to his LPO, Colson Shaw. Standing like a brick wall in human form, arms folded, his presence alone enough to command the room.

Beside him, Commander Ryan Ellis, one of the senior SEAL officers, and Lt. Greg Dawson, the mission lead, both dead serious.

This was big.

Jesse could feel it in the tight energy of the room, in the way everyone was locked in.

No bullshit.

No hesitation.

He took his seat, rolling his shoulders, feeling the weight of the mission settle into his bones.

This was what he was made for.

“Alright, listen up,” Dawson started, nodding to Ellis. “This came in overnight. We’ve got a critical extraction in the South Pacific—Banda Sea region, near Indonesia.”

Jesse straightened, pulse steady, focused.

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