Chapter Twelve
“So, Glenn,” Bateman said, raising his beer bottle toward the sniper lounging on the porch railing, “does taking out that chopper when I gave the order mean you’re finally ready to accept you’re a Pathfinder now?”
Glenn, who was sitting on the ground between Maddox’s legs, took a long pull from his drink, deadpanned. “That depends. Does being a Pathfinder come with dental?”
The group laughed. Dale, lounging with his chair tipped back, grinned. “Come on, man. You and me—we’re the hybrids. Half Bravo, half Pathfinder. The best of both worlds.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bateman grumbled. “I’m Pathfinder through and through. No halfway shit.”
“Fuck off,” Dev muttered, raising a hand. “Maddox is ours. You Pathfinder boys can keep your angst.”
“Glenn, you say the word and you get top billing,” Ricky added, slinging an arm around Ezra’s shoulder. “We’ll even throw in a jacket.”
Eli chuckled quietly, nestled into Marsh’s side on the low outdoor couch.
The warmth of the firepit glowed across their faces, stars glittering in the night sky overhead.
He hadn’t moved far from Marsh since the rescue—not because he was too injured, but because Marsh hadn’t let him go.
And while that closeness normally would have made Eli feel warm and safe, now it felt . .. heavy.
Protective, yes. But also, afraid. And that wasn’t okay.
He sighed, fingers curling around Marsh’s. The man had barely left his side all week.
“You good?” Marsh asked, voice low, pressing a kiss to Eli’s temple.
Eli nodded. “Just thinking.”
He had been unconscious for most of the ride back, thanks to the Colonel cracking his head against the window.
The memory was fragmented—blinding pain, then darkness.
Before he completely passed out, he watched Kai being shot, which was something the man must have suspected was coming because almost as blood bloomed at his side, he had the door open and was rolling out of the moving car.
When they’d gone back to search for him, there’d been no sign.
Eli wasn’t surprised. Not really. And it bothered him that he had no idea if Kai had managed to save his sister, and that Marsh could find nothing about her on any service or website or anything.
None of his searches came back with a hit.
And then there was the fact that Hogan was broken. He hadn’t seen Hogan smile since.
Across the table, Ty and Oren sat close but not touching. Dale was on the opposite side, eyeing them both with the kind of silent intensity Eli recognized as longing and confusion. Something had happened there. The tension was palpable.
Ty leaned back in his chair, beer resting on his thigh. “I’m going back to the range tomorrow. And the gym. I let myself get soft.”
Oren snorted. “You? Soft? You’re built like a damn tank.”
“A tank that got taken down by a goddamn dart,” Ty muttered.
“Two darts,” Dale raised two fingers in the air. “Those darts were military grade. Don’t beat yourself up. We all know it wasn’t a fair fight.”
“Still,” Ty muttered, not quite meeting Oren’s gaze, “it won’t happen again. And if there is ever a need to fight, I will not be sitting it out and waiting in the goddamn comms room.”
Eli watched the exchange with quiet curiosity. Something had shifted between those three, something subtle but significant.
Ricky leaned in toward Ezra. “Remind me again how many Oren took down before he even got hit?”
“Four,” Ezra said, smiling. “One of them with nothing but a goddamn brick.”
“I didn’t have a weapon,” Oren said, raising a brow.
“You had instincts and rage,” Marsh noted. “That counts.”
“Still took a blade,” Oren said, rubbing at the healing wound under his shirt. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“That guy isn’t breathing anymore,” Dale said, his voice low. No humor this time.
Eli shivered slightly, pulling Marsh’s arm tighter around his shoulders. There had been moments in the field when he thought none of them would walk away from it. That Kai had doomed them all.
And yet here they were.
Together.
But that lingering question still hung heavy.
“Who cares? He betrayed us,” Hogan snapped suddenly. “Used everything he knew about us. Everything we gave him.”
Eli turned, frowning. “He did it for a reason, Hogan. You think that wasn’t killing him, too?”
Dev, who’d been quietly nursing his beer, tilted his head. “You know, that arrow that took the Colonel out? None of us had a bow. Let alone one that could fire a hunting arrow like that.”
Marsh’s brow furrowed. “You saying what I think you’re saying?”
Dev nodded. “Kai won three national competitions in long-range traditional archery. Guy’s a ghost with a bow.”
Dale let out a breath. “Gruesome way to go. But fitting.”
Eli swallowed hard. “He promised me. Said he’d get me back to Marsh and send the Colonel to hell. And he did it wounded. I saw him get shot before he leaped out of the truck.”
Hogan’s jaw ticked. He looked ready to explode. “And then he disappeared. Went into this whole thing alone. Didn’t even give us a chance to help him. What the hell was he thinking?”
The mood shifted slightly, the laughter fading. Marsh’s jaw tightened. “I think we should find Kai. Drag his ass back here and get answers.”
Hogan growled. “Damn right. He played all of us. We trusted him. I trusted him.”
Eli sat up straighter, tone firm. “He wasn’t trying to hurt us. The Colonel had his sister. He told me he had no choice.”
Bateman leaned forward. “We’ve looked into it.
There’s no record of a sister. No birth certificate, no photos, no digital footprint.
Either she doesn’t exist, or she’s so far off grid even Kai couldn’t find her again.
Not in any system we could access. Either he went deep undercover, or . .. he’s gone.”
Dev nodded. “Black site you reckon?”
“If they have him?” Bateman asked, his tone clearly saying that he would be bad if they did. “Then, yeah.”
“He didn’t fake that fear,” Eli said quietly. “I saw it. Felt it. You can’t fake that kind of desperation. Not when it’s about someone you love.”
Hogan stood abruptly, jaw clenched. “Doesn’t change the fact that he betrayed us.”
He walked away into the darkness, leaving silence in his wake.
Conversations floated over the fire—talk of rebuilding the therapy wing, upgrading surveillance, and what came next for the Ridge. Eli caught snippets about rotating security protocols, reinforced safe rooms, and new fencing being installed.
“I think we should add a new gym wing,” Ezra offered. “Bigger weight room. Sauna.”
“Hot tub,” Ricky said, smirking.
“Massage therapist on call,” Dale chimed in.
Ricky raised his drink. “Only if it’s a guy named Sven.”
Laughter echoed. And for a moment, it felt normal.
Marsh was talking about incorporating some smart tech he’d been experimenting with into the Ridge’s perimeter defense.
Something about seismic sensors and AI-driven recognition software.
Bateman looked half-interested, half-exasperated.
“If it doesn’t come with a big red button I can smash, I don’t want it,” he grumbled.
“What about a big red button that triggers countermeasures and sets off a perimeter lockdown?” Dev suggested.
“Now that,” Marsh said with a sharp grin, “is more my style.”
Eli laughed softly and leaned closer, whispering in Māori, “Kei a au ētahi mahere mō te anamata.”
Marsh grinned. “Plans for the future, huh?”
“Take me upstairs and I’ll tell you in explicit detail,” Eli murmured, lips brushing his ear.
Marsh groaned. “Jesus, I missed you.”
“You never lost me,” Eli said, standing and tugging Marsh’s hand. “But it’s time I remind you what you were fighting for.”
Marsh followed him without a second thought, his beer abandoned, his eyes never leaving Eli’s face.
The night around them was full of laughter, clinking bottles, and quiet hope.
But as Eli led Marsh toward the house, his heart beat just a little faster, full of gratitude, love, and the kind of clarity that came only after surviving hell.
****
Marsh didn’t let go of Eli’s hand as they walked through the quiet Ridge House corridors, laughter and soft conversation fading behind them like the last notes of a song.
In their suite, the door clicked shut behind them with a gentle finality, sealing off the rest of the world.
The lights were low, golden and warm, casting soft glows against the wooden floors and whitewashed walls.
It smelled like home. Like cedar, soap, and Eli.
Marsh leaned against their closed bedroom door for a moment, staring at Eli as if seeing him for the first time. His breath hitched.
Eli.
Alive.
His.
Eli turned slowly, smile soft, eyes full of something raw and deep. “You okay?”
Marsh stepped forward and buried his fingers in Eli’s hair, pulling him into a kiss that had none of the restraint he’d been clinging to all week. Eli melted into it, arms sliding around Marsh’s waist.
Their mouths moved with the ease of familiarity, but the heat behind it was anything but gentle. This was reclamation. This was need.
Marsh’s hands roamed—over shoulders, down back, fingers mapping his shape, something he’d nearly lost forever. Eli’s moan vibrated against his lips, and Marsh swallowed it, hungry.
Clothes fell away like water. They laughed when Marsh tripped over his jeans. Laughed harder when Eli lost his balance pulling off a sock and landed on the bed with a bounce.
“Smooth,” Marsh said, climbing after him.
“You’re one to talk,” Eli shot back, dragging Marsh down.
The sheets twisted around them as they kissed, explored, laughed, whispered. Marsh traced every inch of Eli’s skin like a cartographer rediscovering sacred territory. The bruises made him pause. He kissed each one like an apology.