Page 30 of Anchor
“So are you.”
He checked the secure feed. “We leave at 18:30. Walk.”
Claire gave a quiet laugh. “Around the corner.”
“Exactly.” He shrugged his tux jacket over her shoulders again—no ceremony, just habit now.
She watched him for a moment longer, then squared her shoulders with a deep breath. The warmth of the day, the laughter and the ease, pressed into the edges of her chest like something she needed to carry with her because, when they stepped out that door, it was gone.
TEN
CHASE HEADQUARTERS – ANN ARBOR
He stepped close, fingers brushing the back of her hand. Not taking, not demanding, only grounding. “You good?”
She drew in a breath and lifted her chin. “Ask me again in an hour.”
Reid steppedinto the muted hush of the twelfth-floor lobby. He scanned the thick carpet, the paneled walls with artwork, and the soft LED light.
Tuck was waiting in a suit, tie, and polished shoes. His hair carried more silver than Reid remembered, but the posture was the same as always. His uncle was solid and unshakable.
They’d already spoken briefly at the gala, just minutes carved out in the swirl of noise and people, enough for a handshake and a look that said more than words. Now it was just them.
“Reid.” There was no surprise, no formality, just certainty.
Reid stepped forward, his grip firm as their hands clasped. For a second, it was like he was a boy again, trailing after this man who had raised him and Samantha when their mother couldn’t, the man who’d shown him what service really looked like.
“Uncle Tuck.”
The faintest crease touched Tuck’s eyes, almost a smile, but instead of words, his hand shifted to Reid’s shoulder, solid and grounding. He gave just one squeeze, then he let go and stepped aside. “They’re waiting inside. Your room now, kid.”
Reid gave a short nod, the old instinct and something deeper tightening in his chest, before he crossed the threshold. He stayed standing, shoulders squared, as Killian and Noah regarded him from across the table. There was no ceremony here, no wasted breath—just the transfer of weight.
Killian moved first, circling to stand closer. “You’ve worn responsibility before, Hanlon. You know what it costs. But this…” he gestured to the seal etched in the wall, “…this is different. You’re not just taking men and women into fire. You’re building a house. One squad becomes two, then four. What you decide now sets the pattern for every team that follows.”
Reid let that settle, feeling the echo of Tuck’s hand on his shoulder minutes earlier. The burden was familiar, but the shape of it was new. It was strategic, long-game, not just survival.
Noah spoke next, precise as ever. “You won’t answer to us for the details. Your day-to-day is yours. You shape their rhythm, their cohesion, their discipline. But understand—every success, every mistake will carry your name attached to it.”
Reid met his eyes. “Then I’ll make sure we succeed.”
Noah studied him a beat longer, then inclined his head in the faintest mark of approval.
Killian folded his arms. “Tree Town One is watching you, Reid. They don’t want speeches. They want proof. Give it to them. Lead them into something worth bleeding for.”
The room stilled again, heavy with expectation but charged.
Reid nodded once, voice steady. “I won’t let them—or you—down.”
Noah glanced to the door, then back. “Good. Because they’re ready for you.” He shifted a stack of files in front of him. “You meet them at 19:45. Pick an XO.”
TREE TOWN ONE CONFERENCE ROOM – 1945 HOURS
The door at the far end opened, and the quiet murmur of boots on carpet filled the room. Eighteen operators filed in with practiced discipline, no wasted movement, and no chatter. They filled the chairs without needing to be told, eyes forward, still.
Reid remained standing where Killian and Noah left him, their words hanging in the air. He looked at the faces arranged before him—soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, coast guard. Operators. Each one marked by their own fire, each one carrying their own scars.
Killian didn’t take the head seat. He stood off to the side, arms folded, eyes on Reid. Noah followed, hands clasped behind his back.
