What’s Left to Burn

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

SAGE

S omewhere between Charleston and Damascus, I realized I didn’t even know her last name.

That’s the thing about flying into danger. It leaves you with too much time to think—and too few answers when the what-ifs creep in. The roar of the engines filled the cabin, a steady drone that should’ve drowned out my thoughts, but instead, it gave them room to multiply.

I shifted in my seat, adjusting the straps of my harness as I glanced around at the guys. Randy was predictably passed out, his head tilted back against the wall of the aircraft, mouth slightly open. Matt sat across from me, flipping a coin in his hand with a practiced ease, his eyes half-closed but his mind clearly not at rest. The rest of the team was scattered, each of us tucked into our own corners of the bird, lost in thought or sleep.

Above us, near the cockpit door, the American flag hung neatly on the wall, its red, white, and blue catching the faint glow of the overhead lights. It wasn’t just a symbol—it was a reminder. Of the people we protected. Of the values we swore to uphold. My chest tightened as I looked at it, thinking of all the sacrifices made by the men and women who’d come before us. I thought of my dad, who’d once told me that wearing the uniform wasn’t just about service—it was about honor, about being part of something bigger than yourself.

It wasn’t just duty that kept me here, on this plane, headed into danger. It was pride. Pride in the people who’d raised me, in the country I called home, and in the chance to do my part, no matter the cost.

Holger Adams, one of the older guys on the team, sat a few seats down, his face illuminated by the dim glow of the overhead lights. He was scrolling through a worn Tom Clancy paperback, his lips moving faintly as he read. Holger was steady—unshakable. The kind of guy you wanted in your corner when things got dicey. He was also the only one of us married, a fact that baffled most of the team.

Matt caught me looking his way and smirked. “You good, or are you still thinking about that girl from the party?”

I shot him a look, keeping my voice low. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” he said, drawing the word out with a grin. “Because you weren’t staring at her like she was the only thing in the room.”

“Let it go, McMinn,” I muttered, leaning back against the cold metal wall of the cabin.

Matt leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, man, I’m just saying. You don’t usually notice people like that. So, what’s the deal? She say something that got to you?”

“No,” I said quickly, then paused. “I mean, not really. She’s just … different.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something closer to curiosity. “Different how?”

Before I could answer, Randy snorted himself awake, rubbing his face and squinting against the overhead light. “What’re we talking about?”

“Sage’s new crush,” Matt said, earning himself a glare from me.

“It’s not a crush,” I said firmly.

“Sure, sure,” Randy said, his voice still thick with sleep. He tilted his head toward Holger. “Hey, Adams, you ever get like this when you met your wife? All moony-eyed and distracted?”

Holger looked up from his book, his expression even but faintly amused. “Moony-eyed? No. Distracted? Maybe. But that was ten years ago. Why? One of you idiots finally thinking about settling down?”

The laughter that rippled through the cabin was quiet but genuine. Randy leaned back in his seat, grinning. “Not me. Just curious how you make it work, you know, with the job and all.”

Holger closed his book, resting it on his lap. “It’s not easy, I’ll tell you that much. My wife’s a saint for putting up with it.”

Matt leaned forward, clearly interested. “How do you do it, though? Like, how do you come home and act normal after … everything?”

Holger’s gaze shifted, his expression growing more serious. “You don’t. Not really. You just get good at compartmentalizing. You have to. There’s a line you can’t cross—the job stays with the job. You don’t bring it home. You don’t talk about it. And when she asks, you tell her what you can, which usually isn’t much.”

“That sounds … lonely,” Matt said, his voice quieter now.

Holger nodded. “It can be. But she knew what she was getting into when she married me, and I knew what I was signing up for when I joined. It’s a balancing act, and some days, it feels like you’re one slip away from losing it all.”

The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of our choices more tangible in the dim light of the aircraft. I shifted in my seat, staring down at the straps across my lap.

“So why do it?” Randy asked, breaking the silence.

Holger looked at him, his expression steady. “Because I love her. And because, despite everything, she’s the only thing that makes coming home feel worth it.”

The cabin fell quiet again. I glanced at Matt, whose usual smirk had faded into something more thoughtful. Randy leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling as if Holger’s words had given him too much to think about.

And me? I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way her voice had softened when she asked if I liked my job, the way her eyes had searched mine like she was trying to figure me out. Somehow, she’d gotten under my skin.

Matt caught my expression and grinned again, his teasing back in full force. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t argue.

The mission ahead should’ve been the only thing on my mind, and yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the thought of her. It was the way she made me feel—off balance, curious, and more alive than I’d felt in years.

For better or worse, Mia had gotten to me. And I wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Matt’s voice broke through the quiet hum of the cabin, low enough not to disturb the others but insistent enough to drag me out of my thoughts. “Speaking of keeping things going, Holger, how do you and your wife make it work? Like, really? You’re gone half the time, and the other half, you’re probably not allowed to say anything about where you’ve been.”

Holger looked up from his book, already smirking. “You ask that like you’re planning to settle down, McMinn.”

Matt shrugged, slipping his phone out of his pocket and unlocking the screen with a swipe of his thumb. “Not yet. But if I did, it’d probably be with someone like this.” He turned the phone around, and a picture of Tonya and Mia filled the screen, both of them smiling at the camera, Mia’s dark eyes catching the light just right. “Pulled this from Tonya’s socials before we left. Figured Sage might want a keepsake.”

The air in the cabin shifted as Randy leaned over for a better look, his grin widening. “Oh, damn.”

“Shut up, Randy,” I muttered, my pulse picking up as my eyes locked on the screen. Mia’s face was clearer than I remembered, her smile soft but guarded, like she wasn’t entirely comfortable in front of the camera. There was something about the way her hair framed her face, the slight tilt of her head—it hit me square in the chest, harder than I wanted to admit.

Matt noticed my reaction and grinned, handing the phone off to Randy. “What’d I tell you? He’s got it bad.”

“I do not,” I said, keeping my voice steady even as my heart raced. “And what the hell are you doing stalking people on social media?”

“It’s called research,” Matt said with mock seriousness, leaning back in his seat. “You’ve got to plan ahead when you’re about to disappear for a while. Unlike you, I’m not going to leave a good lead hanging.”

Randy snorted, passing the phone to Holger, who glanced at it briefly before handing it back. “She’s pretty, I’ll give you that,” Holger said, his tone neutral. “But pretty only gets you so far when you’re gone more than you’re home.”

“True,” Randy added, grinning as he elbowed me. “So what’s your plan, Cole? Gonna slide into her DMs when we’re back stateside?”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re all idiots.”

Matt leaned forward, his grin wide. “Oh, come on. Admit it. You want a piece of that. I’ll take Tonya, and you … you know.”

I didn’t respond, but my silence said more than I wanted it to. The truth was, seeing her picture felt like a punch to the gut in the best and worst way. It reminded me of what I’d felt back on that porch—the pull was undeniable.

“You should’ve gotten her number,” Matt said, shaking his head like I’d just made the rookie mistake of the century. “You don’t run into a girl like that every day, man.”

“Yeah,” Randy added with a smirk. “Especially one who doesn’t look like she’d run screaming after finding out what you do for a living.”

I glared at them, but the teasing only made me more aware of the knot tightening in my chest. Maybe they were right. Maybe I should’ve gotten her number. But standing there with her last night, it hadn’t felt that simple.

“Alright, enough,” Holger cut in, his tone more grounded. “Let the man breathe. He’s got bigger things to worry about right now.”

The reminder was a splash of cold water, pulling me back to reality. I exhaled, running a hand over my face as the others shifted back into their own rhythms. The teasing had been lighthearted, but it still left a mark. Because, for all their jokes, they weren’t wrong.

I shifted in my seat. Could I even imagine a life like that? Balancing this job, the secrecy, the chaos, with someone waiting at home, trying to hold it all together? My parents had managed for a while, but not without cost.

Dad’s deployments had always been like a shadow over our family, stretching longer and darker each time. He’d never talked much about what he did, but even as a kid, I could feel the tension radiating off him when he came home. It was like he was carrying something too heavy to put down, and no one—not even Mom—could get close enough to help him with it.

I could still remember the fights, the way Mom’s voice would crack as she yelled, her frustration and fear spilling out in words she didn’t mean. And Dad, standing there silent and stoic, taking it all without a word until he couldn’t anymore. I hated those nights, hated the way they made the house feel like it was splintering apart. But more than anything, I hated the way they looked at each other afterward—like two people who used to be in love but didn’t know how to find their way back to it.

“Earth to Cole,” Matt said, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “You still with us?”

I blinked, shaking off the memory. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About her,” Matt said, his grin returning.

“About the mission,” I corrected, though it wasn’t entirely true.

Randy chuckled. “Sure, man. Whatever you say.”

I ignored him, focusing instead on Holger, who had gone back to his book. “So, if it’s that hard, why’d you get married in the first place?”

Holger looked up, his gaze steady. “Because I knew she was worth it. The job is temporary. Love—real love—that’s the thing you fight for. Even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.”

He paused, his eyes drifting to the floor like he was weighing his next words. Then he leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. “You know, if I was ever captured—if they found a way to use her against me—I’d be done. No question. They wouldn’t have to ask twice. I’d give them anything they wanted to keep her safe. Burn the world down if it meant she didn’t have to suffer for my choices.” His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a man who had thought about it, who knew just how far he’d go.

The cabin fell silent, the gravity of his words settling over us. Holger exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening as he looked back up. “That’s why I draw the line so sharp between this and my life with her. It’s not about keeping secrets. It’s about keeping her out of it. Because if she ever got pulled into the mess we deal with …” He shook his head, his voice trailing off. “I couldn’t live with that. So I do everything I can to make sure it never happens. Everything.”

There was a kind of raw honesty in the way he said it, a vulnerability that didn’t come easy for a man like Holger. It wasn’t just love he was talking about—it was devotion, the kind that didn’t just hold up in the good times but stood unshaken in the worst.

Matt glanced at me, his usual smirk nowhere to be found, and even Randy looked unusually somber. Holger’s words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of just how high the stakes were—not just for us, but for the people we left behind every time we boarded a bird like this.

Holger leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his voice softer now. “That’s why I’m so careful, why I don’t let the lines blur. I don’t take unnecessary risks, and I don’t bring this job home with me. Not even a little. Because if anything ever happened to her because of me …” His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

His words lingered, the sentiment as sharp as any knife.

In this line of work, we were used to thinking in terms of risks, strategies, and sacrifices. Was that what I wanted? To find someone worth fighting for, even knowing how much the fight might cost? The thought was equal parts tempting and terrifying.

“Hey, man, what’s it like?” Randy asked suddenly, his voice quiet. “Being married, I mean. Really.”

Holger leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s like having a safe harbor in the middle of a storm. It doesn’t make the storm go away, but it gives you a place to catch your breath. It gives you something to hold onto when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.”

A safe harbor. I’d never thought about it like that, but the idea was appealing in a way I hadn’t expected. Maybe that’s what I saw in Mia—the possibility of something steady, something grounding, even if I didn’t fully understand it yet.

Matt, ever the skeptic, leaned forward with a smirk. “Yeah, but what about when you’re the storm? Doesn’t that mess things up?”

Holger chuckled softly. “It does. But that’s when you learn the difference between someone who loves the idea of you and someone who loves all of you—even the parts you’re still trying to figure out.”

The cabin fell quiet again. I leaned my head back against the wall. Someone who loves all of you.

I hadn’t even let myself consider the possibility of something like that in years. The job didn’t leave room for it. Or so I’d always told myself.

“Alright, boys,” the team leader’s voice crackled over the comms, breaking the silence. Jack Ross was all business. “We’re thirty out. Time to get your heads in the game.”

The mood in the cabin shifted instantly. Randy straightened, rubbing his hands together as he leaned forward. Matt pocketed his coin, his easy grin replaced by a sharp focus. Holger set his book aside, his expression calm but alert.

I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension that had settled there. There was no room for distractions. No room for questions or doubts.

Ross’s voice came through again, steadier now. “We’ll touch down at the safe house and lay low until nightfall. We use the daylight hours to rest, gear up, and get the latest sitrep from the ground team.”

The air in the cabin settled into a quieter, sharper focus. Resting didn’t mean relaxing—not out here. It meant staying alert, running the scenarios in your head, and making sure your body was ready to move when the time came. And for guys like us, waiting for dark meant waiting for the danger.

The hum of the engines filled the silence, and I stared at the straps across my lap, already replaying the plan in my mind. We’d stage at a small, secure compound near the Jordanian border—a stone house reinforced with steel and camouflaged to blend with the barren landscape. Inside, we’d have just enough resources to regroup before moving toward the mission site.

Matt glanced my way, his usual teasing grin replaced by something quieter, more reflective. “I hate waiting like this,” he muttered. “Makes my head spin.”

“Better to wait than to go in blind,” Holger said, his voice calm but resolute. “Dark gives us the upper hand. Always has, always will.”

Randy nodded, though his usual bravado seemed muted. “Yeah, and besides, I don’t trust anyone on overwatch during the day. Too much can go sideways.”

Ross’s voice cut in once more. “Eyes on the mission, gents. We’ll hit the ground, run final checks, and make this as clean as possible. But first, you rest. Clear heads, steady hands. No exceptions.”

We all muttered our affirmatives.

Holger shifted in his seat, his voice low but firm. “Get your mind right, boys. We do this smart, and we all go home.”

I nodded, leaning back against the cold metal wall. Waiting for nightfall wasn’t just about timing—it was about precision. And when the sun finally dipped below the horizon, we’d be ready to move.

Still, as I reached for my gear and double-checked my weapon, I couldn’t shake the thought of her. Somehow, Mia had managed to get under my skin.

I ran through the mission in my head again, every entry point, every backup plan, every damn detail that could go wrong. Damascus wasn’t a city you walked into lightly, especially not when dealing with fortified compounds and heavily armed hostiles. This wasn’t a snatch-and-grab in the middle of nowhere. This was urban combat at its worst—unpredictable, high-stakes, and unforgiving.

The aircraft began its descent, and the cabin filled with the sharp, metallic tang of anticipation. The engines shifted pitch, a low whine that vibrated through the walls and into my bones. Everyone moved with practiced efficiency, securing gear and checking comms. The quiet camaraderie of just minutes ago had dissolved, replaced by the razor-edged focus of men preparing for war. Even at the safe house, we’d be on high alert.

“Two minutes,” Jack called over comms, his voice crackling but steady. “Stay sharp. No mistakes.”

Matt shot me a look, his expression unreadable as he slid his headset into place. I gave him a small nod, and he returned it. That was the thing about this job—you didn’t always need words. Sometimes, all it took was a look, a gesture, to remind each other why you were there and who you were counting on.

Randy was muttering something under his breath—probably one of his good-luck prayers, though he’d never admit it. Holger tightened the straps on his chest rig, his movements calm and methodical. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it.

The wheels touched down with a jarring thud, and the cabin seemed to hold its breath as the plane taxied to a stop. When the ramp lowered, the harsh light of the sun flooded in, casting sharp shadows on the tarmac. I stepped off the bird, boots hitting the ground, and immediately felt the shift. The air here was different—thinner, dustier, carrying the faint scent of fuel and sand. The distant hum of life in the nearby village was a reminder that we weren’t in Charleston anymore.

This was another world.

The landscape was stark, a palette of browns and grays stretching out in every direction, broken only by jagged rocks and the distant shimmer of heat waves on the horizon. It wasn’t just the terrain that was unforgiving—it was the sense of exposure, the feeling that every move you made here was watched, every step calculated.

The danger wasn’t hypothetical anymore. It was real. Tangible. Out here, a single misstep could be the difference between life and death, and the weight of that knowledge settled heavy in my chest.

The safe house loomed ahead, a squat stone structure nearly swallowed by the barren landscape. It looked unimpressive, almost primitive, but I knew better. Inside, it would be fortified, every inch designed for survival. But that didn’t make it invulnerable. Out here, no place truly was.

Ross’s voice cut through the moment. “Eyes up, stay sharp. Safe house is secure, but we’re not taking chances.”

We moved quickly, gear strapped tight, scanning the perimeter as we approached. The wind kicked up a fine layer of dust, stinging my eyes and making my throat feel like sandpaper. The heat pressed down, suffocating, and yet it wasn’t just the climate that had my senses on high alert.

It was the knowledge that we were already in enemy territory.