Chapter Six
The sun was sharp overhead, bouncing off the tarmac and the gleaming wings of the jet parked on the private strip.
Hogan shaded his eyes, his chest tight as he watched the plane taxi to a halt.
He didn’t recognize the make at first, but he knew enough to appreciate the lines—a sweet bird, fast, sleek, built for men who needed to move unseen but still move in style.
The stairs dropped, and they came.
Each Pathfinder carried a pack on his back and another in his hand.
The moment was cinematic—men he had fought beside, bled beside for more than a decade, walking toward him like something ripped straight from a Marvel flick.
His heart thumped in his chest, pride and relief punching holes through the exhaustion still lodged in his bones.
Behind him, Luca let out a low whistle. “Holy hell. Did anyone else see that in slow motion, or was that just me?”
Keanu grunted. “Just you.”
Tane added dryly, “Might want to get your eyes checked, Luca.”
But Hogan didn’t look away. Every face was familiar, every stride carved from memory. All of them—Bateman, Dale, Ricky, Marsh, even Ty and Oren, Dale’s partners. Seeing Ty and Oren among them felt right. Just like Ezra, Ricky’s husband, and brother to their fallen Pathfinder Van, they belonged.
They drew up in front of him, sharp grins cutting across the Hawaiian heat. Banter came first, as it always did.
“Look who crawled out of his hole,” Ricky said, voice edged with sarcasm.
“Didn’t think you’d remember how to call us,” Marsh added. “Ezra wanted to come, too, but one of us needs to stay with Sophia...”
Dale stood a little off to the side, arms crossed over his wide chest, voice dry. “You vanish, go dark, then suddenly remember we exist? You’ve got some explaining to do, Hogan.”
“Get in line,” Ricky muttered. “I’ve got questions, too.”
Hogan felt Kai step forward beside him, ready to speak, and without looking he put out a hand, halting him. This was his to say.
He walked straight to Dale, met his eyes, and for the first time in a long time let honesty through. “I had to do it alone. I have to get back what injury stole from me—my memories, my ... Kai. But the second I needed you, I knew my brothers wouldn’t let me down.”
Dale’s mouth curved slowly, a grin spreading. “Damn right we wouldn’t. Never have, never will. But next time? Maybe a little warning before you go cowboy.”
“Cowboy?” Hogan snorted. “I fly planes, I don’t ride horses.”
“Same difference,” Dale fired back. “Both end with you flat on your ass.”
The Pathfinders clasped hands, clapped shoulders, laughed the kind of laughter that came only from knowing every flaw and every scar.
Hogan turned then, greeting Ty and Oren, glad to see the steadiness in their eyes.
The others drifted into introductions with Black Tide—Kael, Niko, Tane, Luca, and Keanu, men cut from different cloth but sharp with the same edge.
Movement at the edge of the tarmac caught Hogan’s attention. Dev Roberts approached, casual as always, a half-smile tugging his lips. Beside him walked a pilot Hogan didn’t know, lean and steady, with a face that carried its own kind of tension.
“Bloody hell,” Dev said the moment he reached them, his eyes on Hogan and Kai. “You two are getting back together and finding your way again. Always thought trouble had a type.”
Hogan shook his head with a groan. Kai did, too. “Psychic bastard,” Hogan muttered, and Dev only grinned wider.
Ricky called out, “Hey, Dev, maybe use those psychic powers to tell us who’s buying dinner tonight.”
Dev smirked. “Not me. Spirits say it’s Marsh’s turn.”
Marsh rolled his eyes. “Convenient spirits.”
Then Dev’s focus shifted. He walked straight past the banter, straight to Kael. The two men stared at each other for a long beat, what felt like a rising tension crackling in the air, and then they did the handshake and one-armed hug of old friends who’d fought together once upon a time.
Dev spoke in native Hawaiian, greeting Kael with a warmth that surprised pretty much everyone there.
“Pehea ?oe, e hoa?” Dev said, his accent respectful but steady. How are you, my friend?
Kael’s reply came deep and sure, carrying the rhythm of home. “Maika?i au, a mahalo. Ua hala ka manawa loa.” I am well, thank you. It’s been too long.
The easy familiarity between them caught the group off guard. Ricky squinted. “Okay, someone want to translate that, or do we just smile and nod? How do you guys know each other?”
When Ricky asked how they knew each other, Kael only grinned and said, “That’s a story for another time. Food and beer required.”
“Beer I can provide,” Ricky said. “Answers, not so much.”
The pilot beside Dev hadn’t spoken, but Kael turned to him with sharp familiarity. Kael’s eyes narrowed with recognition.
“Ghost.” The single word cut the air, crisp and pointed. The pilot’s mouth curved into a knowing half-smile.
“Surge,” Ghost answered without hesitation. The two men exchanged a nod.
Then Ghost turned, steel grey eyes sliding to Niko. His expression curved sharper. “Good to see you, Reef.”
Niko was frozen. His jaw locked. Hogan saw the flash of anger, the weight of history no one wanted to lay bare. The pilot gave him a single look, unreadable, then turned and walked back toward the plane without another word.
“I’ll be back,” Niko muttered, already stomping after him.
Awkward silence slid into the space they left behind. Boots shuffled. No one asked.
Ricky, never one for quiet, broke it with a smirk. “Well, this’ll be fun.”
“Define fun,” Tane deadpanned.
“Explosions,” Ricky answered. “Big ones.”
That earned a low laugh around the group, even from Ty, who shook his head.
The laugh eased the tension. Plans spilled quickly—grab their gear, load into the vans, and head for the off-site warehouse.
Hogan could practically feel the arsenal waiting there, toys enough for every one of them to play with.
War was coming, and for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel like he was walking into it alone.