Page 95 of Echo: Line
"Can we talk?" he asks. "Just us?"
I sit. My heart rate climbs for reasons that have nothing to do with danger.
"You ever think about what comes next?" he asks.
"Sometimes." I choose my words carefully. "After the Committee. After Kessler. What do you think about?"
"I think about it a lot." He's nervous. Alex Mercer, Delta Force operator, stone-cold professional, is nervous. "What happens when the mission ends. If we're still standing." He pulls a small box from his pocket. "I want you there. Not just for the fight. For everything after."
The box is practical, exactly like him. My hands shake when I reach for it.
"Delaney." He opens it, revealing a ring. Silver band, small diamond, nothing flashy. Perfect. "Marry me. Not because we're in danger or might die tomorrow. But because I want tomorrow with you. And all the tomorrows after that."
My breath catches. I'm not a crier—spent years in the Bureau learning to compartmentalize, to control emotions—but this breaks through every defense.
"Alex..."
"You don't have to answer now. I know it's fast, and we're living in a compound fighting a shadow war, and there are probably better times to?—"
"Yes."
He stops mid-sentence. "What?"
"Yes. Absolutely yes." I'm laughing now, or maybe crying, possibly both. "You really thought I'd say anything else?"
"I didn't know." He slides the ring onto my finger with hands that are steadier than mine. "You could do better. Someone without the nightmares, the scars, the?—"
I kiss him. Hard. Until he stops listing his supposed flaws and kisses me back.
"I don't want better," I tell him when we break apart. "I want you. All of you. The operator, the man with nightmares, the one who saves people, everything. Yes."
He pulls me closer, buries his face in my hair. "Till death or victory?"
The Echo Ridge oath. The promise every operator makes.
"Till death or victory," I echo.
The wedding happens two weeks later in Echo Base's common area.
We clear out the tactical tables, bring in chairs borrowed from God knows where, hang strings of lights that Willa found in storage. Sarah helped me with my hair, pulling it back in a way that's elegant but secure. My sidearm is strapped to my thigh under the white dress—knee-length, practical—because some habits die hard.
Alex is in dark jeans and a button-down shirt—the closest thing to formal he owns. No uniform, no medals. He left that life behind in Syria, and he's never looked back. He's standing at the front of the room with Kane beside him, both men looking uncomfortable in the formality of it.
The team is here. Everyone. Stryker in a suit that doesn't quite fit, Rourke looking sharp in what must be his only civilianclothes, Tommy, Sarah, Willa, Khalid with Odin sitting proudly by his side. The family we built from broken operators and second chances.
Kane clears his throat. He got ordained online specifically for this, which would be funny if it wasn't so perfect.
"We're gathered here because two people decided that fighting shadow wars together wasn't enough—they wanted to make it legal." Stryker laughs, and a few others join in. "Alex and Delaney have written their own vows because apparently mine weren't good enough."
"You suggested 'till death or operational security breach,'" Alex says.
"It's catchy."
Laughter ripples through the chairs. Even Rourke cracks a smile. This is us—humor in darkness, joy in the spaces between missions.
Alex takes my hands. "Delaney. You walked into that cabin to arrest me and ended up saving my life instead. You could have walked away a hundred times after that. When you found out what we really do. When the Committee came for us. When I pushed you away because I was too damaged to believe I deserved this. But you didn't walk away. You stayed. Fought beside me. Believed in me when I'd forgotten how." His grip tightens. "You made me want to live, not just survive. I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret that choice."
My turn. I have to breathe through the emotion threatening to close my throat.
