Page 75 of Brawler
“Ma’am, we do not release duty station information for active special warfare operators. Thank you for your call.”Click.
Her voice sharpened on the next attempt.
“Naval Special Warfare Command, Coronado.”
“I’m looking for a SEAL. He saved my life. I just need to know where he is.”
“Ma’am, we cannot confirm or deny the identity of any operator.”Click.
Her eyes burned. She scrubbed both hands down her face, then hit another number.
“NCIS, Norfolk field office.”
“I’m trying to find someone. Petty Officer Christian Beckett. Brawler. He’s a Navy SEAL?—”
“Ma’am, we can’t help you with that.”
Her laugh was ragged, near hysterical. “Cananyonehelp me?”
Click.
She dropped her head into her hands. This was getting her absolutely nowhere. Her heart contracted hard. She clenched her jaw, squeezed her eyes closed on the prick of tears.He will find you, Emily. She took a shuddering breath. Yes, he would. She looked up at her desk. The dissertation draft challenged her. Notes piled high. Dani’s ghost whispering between the lines.
The pain of not knowing where he was, if he was thinking of her, if she would ever see him again, dragged at her.He will find me.
She rose, dropped into the chair, flicked on the lamp, and booted up her desktop. If she couldn’t sleep, she could work. She didn’t have her notes or her SD cards, but she had her mind and her memories.
Her fingers shook at first, every keystroke jagged, uneven. She read, revised, rewrote. She stared at paragraphs until the words blurred. She tried again. Whole sections were too thin; her advisor would tear them apart. So, she filled them, sharpened them, stretched the data she had until it looked whole. The knife of loss pressed in, but she refused to let it gut her.
Hours bled away. The sky outside her window lightened to gray, then pink. She rubbed her burning eyes, blinked at the final page. Exhaustion hollowed her out, but she’d done it. It wasn’t perfect and never would be, but it was finished.
With a breath that rattled in her chest, she hit Send.
Then she lay her head on her arms and slept like the dead.
Two days later, her phone buzzed.
Emily swiped it up, heart pounding. A text.
Emily. I got your field section, and your conclusions. Let’s talk.
Her stomach dropped. The world tilted. Was this just the beginning of the end?
“No,”Flash rasped. His voice broke like dry wood. “That wasn’t me. That’s not real. None of this is real.”
He yanked at his body like it was a parachute that refused to open.Wake the fuck up. Come on, wake up.Panic surged hot and helpless, the kind he hated most.
The forest bled away. Smoke, shouts, and muskets dissolved into black. He was back in the void, chest heaving, fists clenched.
“Fuck you!” His shout ricocheted into silence. “I’m not your pawn. I won’t play your games.”
The black pressed harder. No answer. No release.
Gradually, the silence shifted. Not gone, changed. He wasn’t drowning anymore. He was listening, whether he meant to or not.
A thought clawed its way in, unwanted but undeniable. The shadow behind the enemy… it was the same as the jungle. The same presence that had stalked him from Venezuela into Ecuador.
He shook his head violently. “No. No. I fight men, not unexplained woo-woo shit.” But the words rang hollow.
