Chapter 6 Old Habits #2
Dorian had lived that reality for over thirty years. Callum understood it, even if he’d never lived it himself.
Through the doorway, Finn could see into the main room. The party continued—muffled sounds of conversation, the clink of glasses, someone laughing at something. But the women had noticed the shift. He could see it in the way they moved, the way they positioned themselves.
Annie’s face was calm, but she was drifting toward the children, gathering them with that particular warmth that made kids follow her without question. Story time, probably. Something to keep them contained and distracted.
Someone—Jordan, it looked like—was steering Sloane into a chair near the center of the room.
Sloane was very pregnant, Graham sleeping against her shoulder, and she let herself be guided without protest. As the wife of the sheriff, she knew.
She understood. The chair put her in a position where she could be surrounded, protected, away from windows and doors.
Charlie stood near the hallway entrance with River beside her. River had Marie on her hip, the little girl’s face pressed against her aunt’s shoulder, half-asleep and oblivious to the tension.
Marie. His granddaughter. Ethan’s little girl.
Ethan was halfway across the country with Jess, didn’t even know anything was wrong. And here was Finn, watching two of his sons gear up for a potential threat while his granddaughter dozed in his daughter’s arms.
Charlie’s eyes found his across the distance. He gave her a small nod. I’m okay. The boys are handling it. Stay with the others.
She nodded back. I know. I’ve got this end. Do what you need to do. She wrapped her other arm around Becky, holding baby Denise.
The women would hold the interior. They always had. While the men walked into danger, the women held the line behind them—protecting the children, keeping the civilians calm, ready to fight if fighting came to them.
It was a partnership forged in decades of shared crisis. Different roles, equal weight.
Dorian returned to the ready room, his face set in that particular expression Finn recognized—the one that said he was calculating angles, distances, threat assessments. The one that said he was ready to kill if killing became necessary.
“Ray’s in position,” he said quietly. “Northeast corner. She’s got sight lines to both approaches.”
“Callum?”
“East side. Staying back unless we need official intervention.”
Finn nodded. The second line of defense was set. Ray in the shadows with her crossbow. Callum ready with his badge and his weapon. Finn, Zac, and the others grabbed their own handguns. They were positioned to back up the team if things went sideways.
They weren’t running point anymore. But they were still sharp. Still ready.
At the comm station, Lincoln’s voice cut through the quiet tension. “They’ve stopped moving. Four hundred meters out, just inside the tree line.”
“Waiting?” Theo asked.
“Or watching.” Lincoln’s fingers moved across the keyboard. “Thermal shows two bodies. No visible weapons, but that doesn’t mean anything at this range.”
“Can you get a better image?”
“Working on it. The angle’s bad from the eastern camera. I can try the drone, but the noise might spook them.”
“Hold off on the drone. We’ll approach quiet.” Theo turned to his team. “Bear, Derek, you’re with me. Scarlett, you take the south approach—come around behind them. We’ll box them in.”
Scarlett nodded once and moved for the door.
“Comms check in sixty seconds,” Theo added. “Radio silence after that unless we’ve got contact.”
The team moved toward the door. Theo first, then Bear and Derek. Scarlett had already slipped out through the side exit to take her flanking position.
Finn stepped forward without thinking. His body moved before his brain caught up, decades of instinct overriding twenty years of retirement. He was halfway across the room before Bear turned.
“Dad.”
Finn stopped.
Derek had paused too, looking back. His eyes met Finn’s, and something passed between them that words couldn’t hold.
A few years ago, Derek had been drowning.
PTSD so bad he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function, could barely hold his life together.
Finn had watched his son struggle, had felt helpless in a way combat had never made him feel.
And now here Derek stood—steady, present, ready to walk into danger for his family.
“You good?” Finn asked him. Just Derek. Father to son.
Derek’s mouth curved slightly. “Yeah, Dad. I’m good.”
It was true. Finn could see it was true. Hard-won and battle-tested, but true.
Bear’s face was calm. Patient. “We’ve got this, Dad.”
Three words. Simple. Certain.
Finn heard everything his son wasn’t saying: Trust us. We’ve got this.
He wanted to say something. Wanted to tell them both that he was proud of them, terrified for them, that watching them walk out that door was harder than walking out himself had ever been.
“I know you do,” he managed.
Bear’s hand found Finn’s shoulder and squeezed once—a gesture that somehow contained everything neither of them could speak. Then he let go.
The door opened. Cold air rushed in, sharp and biting.
Bear and Derek walked into the night. Theo was already ahead of them, a shadow moving toward the tree line.
The door closed behind them. Cold air lingered for a moment, then faded.
Finn stood in the ready room, surrounded by the men he’d fought beside for thirty years, and watched his sons disappear into the dark.
Nobody spoke. Zac shifted his weight. Gabe crossed his arms. Dorian watched the screens. Four old soldiers, standing down for the first time in their lives.
*
* Books from characters in this chapter:
Finn Bollinger – EAGLE
Ray maybe next Christmas)