What’s Left to Burn

Chapter 1

Chapter One

SAGE

Charleston, South Carolina

February

T he music was too loud. It pounded through the house, shaking the thin walls like we’d somehow rented a frat house instead of an old brick place by the marina.

Luckily, Charleston’s residents were used to this kind of thing. A steady stream of tourists coupled with the city’s young, professional demographic made parties like ours par for the course. Still, I didn’t want to upset the neighbors. They were probably partied out, after the recent Valentine’s Day celebrations.

Randy Cain’s playlist was all over the place, shifting from bass-heavy hip-hop to ’80s rock and, unsurprisingly, a few classic country hits he claimed were a “Tennessee requirement.” No surprise, coming from a guy born and raised near Nashville.

By now, half the drinks in the fridge were gone, red cups were scattered across the counter, and the unmistakable scent of cheap cologne and spilled liquor hung heavy in the air.

I leaned back against the kitchen island, sipping a beer and watching the chaos unfold around me. Matt was in his element, charming a group of girls near the stereo with his easy grin and relentless one-liners, his Queens accent slipping through whenever he got especially animated. Randy, meanwhile, was in the living room, laughing so loud it echoed over the music as he tried to beat one of the guys at darts.

I wasn’t in the mood to entertain. These kinds of nights weren’t my thing. Not anymore. But Randy had insisted we throw this party—something about “reminding ourselves we’re still human” and “having a damn good time before the next call comes in.” I went along with it for his sake. And Matt’s. Now, with the place packed and the clock ticking toward midnight, I was already counting the minutes until everyone cleared out.

The joy of living with roommates.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket, breaking into my thoughts. For a split second, my stomach tightened—every buzz of the phone carried the possibility of a spin-up, and I hadn’t quite shaken the reflex to check it like the world depended on it.

I fished it out and glanced at the screen. Mom.

I hesitated. She didn’t call often, and when she did, it was usually to remind me of something she thought I’d forgotten—birthdays, holidays, checkups I hadn’t scheduled. Still, I stepped out onto the porch to take it, the cool night air a welcome change from the stuffy heat inside.

“Hey, Ma,” I said, leaning against the railing.

“Sage,” she said, her voice warm but a little tired. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“Good,” I replied, glancing through the sliding door at the chaos inside. “Just … at home. It’s loud here.”

“Randy’s party?” she guessed, the disapproval clear in her tone.

“Yeah.”

She sighed, and I could picture her shaking her head, the way she always did when she thought I should be spending my time better. “Well, I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to see if you’d have time for lunch tomorrow. I’m driving up, and I was thinking that place on Meeting Street—the one with the garden seating you like.”

“Ma, you know my schedule’s up in the air.” I hated having this conversation every time she called, but it wasn’t like I could explain the details. “I’ll try, though. How about I text you in the morning?”

She was quiet for a beat. Then, “You’re always so busy. I just miss seeing you, that’s all.”

Something twisted in my chest. Mom wasn’t the kind to guilt-trip, not intentionally, anyway. She just didn’t get it—the missions, the risks, the way everything could change with one phone call.

“I know, Ma,” I said softly. “I’ll try.”

“Okay.” She paused, her voice brightening slightly. “I’m holding you to it. And, Sage, be careful, okay? You know Luke and Caleb are always worrying about you too, even if they won’t admit it.”

“Always,” I said, even though we both knew it wasn’t true.

My brothers didn’t have to make promises like that. Luke ran a landscaping business in Savannah, and Caleb worked in construction. Honest jobs. Stable jobs. The kind that didn’t involve getting shot at or flying into the middle of nowhere on a moment’s notice.

I was the odd one out—more like Dad than I wanted to admit. He’d been a Navy medic, the kind of guy who thrived under pressure and always ran toward the danger when everyone else was running away.

Not that anyone talked about Dad. Not anymore.

We hung up, and I stared out at the line of boats for a moment, letting the cool breeze brush against my face. Lights shimmered on the dark water, calm and steady, as if the whole world wasn’t spinning faster than it should.

Behind me, the sliding door creaked open, and Matt poked his head out. “Cain’s looking for you. Something about a bet he made that I think involves a blowtorch and bad decisions.”

I snorted. “Sounds about right. I swear, his mama should have named him Rowdy instead of Randy.”

Matt studied me for a second, his easy grin softening. He knew me well. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” I said, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “Mom wants to meet for lunch tomorrow.”

“Classic Cathy Cole,” Matt teased. “She still tryin’ to fatten you up every time she sees you?”

“Something like that,” I said, shaking my head. “Come on. Let’s get back in before Randy burns the place down.”

I followed Matt inside, the wave of heat and noise hitting me like a wall. The music was louder now, the bass reverberating in my chest, and Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” drifted through the speakers, its haunting melody cutting through the chaos. I was halfway to the fridge when I saw her.

She was standing near the sliding door to the deck, her long legs crossed at the ankle, a drink in hand. She wasn’t dressed like the others—no crop tops or flashy heels. Just a simple black dress that hugged her frame in all the right places, paired with a delicate silver necklace that caught the light when she moved.

It wasn’t the dress that caught my attention. It was her face. Strong cheekbones, dark eyes, and the kind of natural elegance that didn’t need much effort. She was looking out at the water, her gaze steady and thoughtful, like she’d wandered into the wrong house and wasn’t quite sure how to leave.

I didn’t realize I was staring until she turned, catching my eyes. For a second, everything else faded. The music, the laughter, the buzz of conversation—it all blurred into the background. Her lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something, but before she could, one of the girls near Matt waved her over.

She hesitated, then made her way toward the group, her movements smooth and unhurried. I watched as she slipped into their circle, her presence instantly shifting the dynamic. The others were loud and animated, but she just smiled politely, her eyes flicking back to the deck every so often like she wanted to escape.

“Who’s that?” I asked, tipping my beer toward her.

Randy appeared beside me, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Mia,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “She came with that girl Tonya. You know, the one Matt met at Wet Willie’s last week. Tonya didn’t want to show up alone, so she brought a plus one. Lucky for us, huh?”

“Lucky for you,” I muttered, taking another sip. “I’m good.”

Randy just laughed. “Sure you are, Cole. Keep telling yourself that.”

The party dragged on, the house feeling smaller with each passing minute. More people showed up, the music got louder, and the air grew heavier with the scent of sweat and spilled drinks. I stayed in the kitchen for most of it, avoiding the crowd and nursing the same beer for longer than I should’ve. But every so often, I found myself glancing toward Mia.

She moved through the room like she didn’t quite belong but wasn’t out of place, either. Polite, but not overly friendly. Quiet, but not shy. There was something about her—something steady and grounded, like she was the eye of the storm in the chaos around her.

At one point, she slipped out onto the deck, and I followed without really thinking about it. The cool night air hit me again as I stepped outside, the scent of saltwater and wet wood filling my lungs. She was leaning against the railing, her dark hair catching the faint glow of the porch light.

“Not a fan of loud parties?” I asked, leaning beside her.

She glanced at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “Not really. You?”

“Not tonight,” I admitted. “I live here, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Her smile widened, and I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Curiosity.

“Mia,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Sage,” I replied, shaking it. Her grip was firm, her hand warm against mine. The contact lingered just a second too long, sending a spark up my arm that I wasn’t prepared for. Judging by the way her lips parted slightly, she’d felt it too.

We stood there for a moment, the silence between us surprisingly comfortable. The sounds of the party faded into the background, replaced by the gentle lapping of the water against the docks.

“What do you do, Sage?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

“Military,” I said vaguely, not wanting to get into the details. “Special operations.”

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t press. Instead, she turned back to the water, her gaze thoughtful. “That must be ... intense.”

I nodded. “It is.”

Before either of us could say more, the sliding door opened behind us, and Matt stuck his head out. “Cole. We’re spun up.”

Mia’s eyes widened slightly, and I pushed off the railing, already switching gears.

“Sorry,” I said, meeting her gaze one last time. “Duty calls.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable, but the way her fingers tightened briefly on the railing told me she didn’t want the conversation to end either.

As I followed Matt, a pang of regret settled in my chest. I’d spent the entire night avoiding the party, avoiding connection, and the one moment I let my guard down, I had to leave. The timing felt cruel.

Inside, the party was still going strong, but it felt like I was seeing it from a distance now. Like the call had pulled me into a different reality entirely.

I wove through the crowd, following Matt as Randy appeared at my side. His usual grin was gone, replaced by the sharp focus we all fell into when the word came.

He tilted his head toward the stairs. “Gear?”

“Upstairs,” I said, my voice clipped.

We moved fast, slipping through the house without drawing too much attention. Most of the partygoers were too wrapped up in their drinks and conversations to notice the shift, but a few curious glances followed us as we passed. I ignored them, my mind already shifting to the next step. Upstairs, the noise faded to a dull hum, and I pushed open the door to my room.

It wasn’t much. Just a bed, a dresser, and a desk piled with gear and half-finished paperwork. The walls were bare except for a small shelf holding a few books and a framed picture of my family—Mom and my brothers standing in front of our old house in Savannah, all of us smiling like we didn’t have a care in the world.

I grabbed my go-bag from the corner, running through the contents with practiced efficiency. Weapons, comms, first aid—it was all there, ready and waiting.

Matt leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Hawkins said to prep for HVT recovery. Sounds big.”

“It always is,” I muttered, zipping the bag shut.

Randy appeared behind him, his expression tight. “Truck’s ready. Let’s roll.”

I nodded, slinging the bag over my shoulder and heading back downstairs. The party was still in full swing, the music vibrating through the floor as we cut through the living room toward the front door. Ahead of us, I saw two of the other guys from the team slipping out, their bags already in hand. The call had gone out to all of us, and the house was clearing fast. Eight operators total, all moving with purpose, barely sparing a word to anyone as they left.

By the time we reached the entryway, the only ones left were Matt, Randy, and me. Josh, a buddy who wasn’t part of the team but hung around the house a lot, caught my eye near the door.

“You got it here?” Matt asked, tossing him a set of keys.

Josh caught them easily, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll lock up. Go do your thing.”

“Appreciate it,” I said, brushing past him.

We stepped outside into the cool night air, the quiet hum of the marina a stark contrast to the chaos we’d left behind. The other guys were already loading up into their vehicles, engines rumbling as one by one, they pulled out onto the street.

I stopped by the truck, glancing at Randy and Matt. “I’m driving,” I said, holding out my hand for the keys. “You’ve both had more than me.”

Matt smirked, tossing them to me without argument. “Fair enough. Guess I can’t argue with the one-beer wonder.”

“Damn right,” I muttered, climbing into the driver’s seat. Randy slid into the passenger seat, Matt into the back, and the cabin filled with the familiar scent of sweat and old leather.

“Better sober up quick,” I said as I pulled onto the street, my voice steady but pointed. “Hawkins won’t care how good the party was if you’re not sharp by the time we sit down for the briefing.”

Randy groaned but nodded. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

“Same here,” Matt added from the back. “I’m already in mission mode.”

The lights from the house grew smaller in the rearview mirror, but I couldn’t shake the image of Mia standing near the kitchen, her dark eyes catching mine as I passed. She hadn’t said a word, but something in her expression had stopped me in my tracks.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away. There wasn’t time for that now.

The streets of Charleston blurred past, streetlights glowing softly. Couples strolled hand in hand along the Battery, their laughter soft and distant, and the occasional passing car broke the stillness. The city felt alive in a way that made the world we were heading into seem even darker.

Randy broke the silence first, leaning forward to glance at Matt. “What do you think this is? HVT recovery sounds serious.”

Matt shrugged, his focus on the phone in his hand. “Damascus is my guess. Hawkins will confirm at the brief.”

I kept my eyes on the road, but my jaw tightened at the mention of Damascus. High-value targets, aid workers, fortified compounds—I didn’t need Hawkins to tell me it was going to be bad. It always was.

The roar of the engine filled the cab as we merged onto the highway, the lights of downtown fading behind us. None of us spoke after that, the tension building in the silence as we got closer to Joint Base Charleston. It wasn’t nerves. Not exactly. It was the kind of anticipation that came with the awareness that you were walking into the unknown.

By the time we reached the base, the tension in the truck was taut. The guard at the gate waved us through without a word, and I pulled into a spot near the operations building. The base was alive with activity, soldiers moving with purpose under the harsh glare of floodlights, the faint sound of aircraft engines in the distance.

We grabbed our bags and headed inside, the air of the building a welcome relief from the stickiness outside. As we walked toward the operations center, I pulled out my phone and shot off a quick text to Mom: Can’t make lunch tomorrow. Sorry, Ma. I’ll explain later.

It wasn’t much, but it was all I could do. I hated canceling on her, but there wasn’t time for anything else.

Hawkins was waiting for us in the briefing room, his broad frame leaning against the far wall. The dim overhead lighting caught the silver streaks in his close-cropped hair, giving him an air of authority that demanded attention before he even spoke. His sharp, assessing gaze swept over the room, landing on each of us like he was taking a measure of where our heads were before the mission even started.

He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Hostages in Damascus,” he began, his voice low and steady, the kind of voice that cut through noise and commanded respect. “Aid workers, diplomats, and a high-value target—South Carolina Senator Jessup. Compound’s fortified, heavily guarded. Intel says we’ve got a narrow window before the situation escalates.”

Randy muttered a curse under his breath, and Matt’s jaw tightened. I kept my expression neutral, taking in the grainy satellite images projected onto the far wall.

Hawkins stepped forward, his movements deliberate, and pointed to the map with a gloved hand. “This isn’t a standard extraction,” he said, his tone firm but calm. “These people don’t just want a payday. They want leverage. Jessup makes it political.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “We don’t leave anyone behind. You all understand that.”

We nodded as one.

Hawkins had that way about him—a presence that made you believe you could pull off the impossible. He wasn’t the kind of leader who barked orders for the sake of it. Every word was measured, every decision calculated. You never doubted for a second that he’d considered every angle, every risk, before sending you in.

He continued, laying out the plan with practiced efficiency. Entry points, enemy positions, contingency plans. It was all familiar, the kind of details we’d been trained to process without hesitation. But even as I focused on the briefing, my thoughts kept drifting back to her. Mia. The way her voice had softened when she asked if I liked the job, the way her eyes had searched mine like she was looking for something more.

I shook my head, forcing myself back into the present. This wasn’t the time to be distracted.

“Wheels up at 0400,” Hawkins finished, his gaze sweeping over us. His eyes locked on mine for an extra beat, and I straightened reflexively. “Get your gear squared away and rest if you can. Dismissed.”

We filed out of the room, then made our way to the gear lockers. The sounds of the base surrounded us, the steady rhythm of a world that never stopped moving. I checked my equipment one last time, my movements automatic as I ran through the checklist.

Matt and Randy worked in silence beside me, their focus as sharp as mine. This was the job. The life we’d chosen. Delta didn’t recruit guys who hesitated or second-guessed. You either thrived in the chaos, or you didn’t make it through selection.

As I closed my locker and slung my bag over my shoulder, I couldn’t help the flicker of doubt that crept into my mind. Not about the mission—I knew what I was doing there.

It was her.

Mia.

The woman I barely knew but already, couldn’t seem to forget.