Epilogue
The Ridge was quiet.
Too quiet, if you asked Hogan. The stars were out, pinpricks of cold light scattered across the vast dark sky.
He stood at the far edge of the compound, leaning against a weathered fence, the wood rough against his forearms. A cigarette glowed faintly between his fingers, the ember flaring each time he inhaled.
He needed to quit. Knew it. Swore he would. Just not tonight.
He only had a couple when the stress gnawed through his ribs like a starving rat, and tonight it was chewing deep.
Kai.
The bastard had disappeared. After everything. After getting Eli back, after helping kill the Colonel—after betraying them all first.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Hogan glanced down.
Unknown Number.
He declined the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
It buzzed again.
This time, the screen didn’t say Unknown.
It said ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE.
He frowned, thumb hesitating over the green icon. Then he swiped to connect.
“Yeah?”
“You always were stubborn.”
Hogan went still. That voice. Rougher than usual.
“Kai.”
“In the flesh. Sort of.”
Hogan’s jaw clenched. “You son of a bitch.”
Kai huffed a sound that could have been a laugh. “Missed you, too.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Kai groaned quietly.
“You okay? Where the fuck are you? Are you in a black site?”
Kai laughed. It sounded weak. “I wish. At least black sites have beds. And food.”
Hogan gripped the fence tighter. “Are you hurt?”
“Define hurt.”
Hogan closed his eyes for a moment. “Jesus, Kai.”
He heard Kai take a slow shuddery breath. “I saved her. My sister. She’s safe.”
Hogan exhaled slowly. “Good. You did good.”
“And Eli. I owed him that. I owed all of you that.”
Another groan.
“You sound like shit.”
“Stop with the compliments, you old sweet talker you,” Kai rasped. “Going off grid for a while. Off contact. But I wanted you to know. I’ll reach out when I need you.”
Hogan stiffened. “You think I’ll still be around for that?”
“I think,” Kai said slowly, “you’ll come when I call. Because it’s about something from our past.”
Hogan frowned. “We don’t have a past. I only met you a few months ago.”
Kai didn’t answer that. Just sighed.
“Gotta go,” he said. “But Hogan? Take care of yourself. More sleep. Less smoking.”
“How the hell do you know I’m—”
“See you when I see you, Ace.”
Click.
The line went dead.
Hogan stared at the phone.
Ace.
Something stirred. Something he couldn’t quite reach. A flicker of familiarity, just out of reach.
Then overhead, he heard it. The faint whirr of a long-range drone.
The bastard had eyes on him.
Well, good. Because one day soon, Hogan was going to have eyes on Kai again, too.
They had a past, apparently.
And he was damn well going to find out what the hell it was.
****
The firepit was nothing but ash now. Smoke curled up into the twilight like a tired ghost. Most of the Ridge had gone quiet after the long evening—full bellies, tired bones, and too many open wounds scabbed over with laughter.
Dale lingered behind.
He leaned against the railing of the west overlook, eyes fixed on the silhouette of the mountains. He didn’t jump when Ty stepped up beside him, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn cargo pants.
“He knows that something is going on,” Ty said simply. “You’re acting differently with him, and hell, so am I.”
Dale didn’t look over. “I know.”
Hell, he had gone from being the laugh of the party to brooding in silence, the images of the fight, seeing Oren going down at the hands of that mercenary bastard who stabbed him playing over and over in his head.
“I saw red,” Dale admitted quietly. “When that guy hurt him, I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t think. I just ... killed him. With my bare hands. Seeing him hurt, cut me deep. I felt like I had failed him. Again.”
The sight of blood on his shoulder was a fucking abomination.
“You weren’t the only one who felt like they failed him,” Ty said. “I should’ve fought harder in Afghanistan.”
“No,” Dale said, voice hard. “That failure was mine. I was the one who gave the all-clear to pull out.”
Ty exhaled slowly, the weight of memory between them thick. “I sure as fuck should have stood with you all against those mercenaries. That’s why I’m going to start training. Why I’ll never stand by again. Not when people I care about are in danger.”
“People?” Dale asked, an eyebrow raised.
Ty gave him a sidelong look. “I said people. And I meant people. Don’t be an asshole.”
Dale cracked the first real smile he’d worn all evening. “I have feelings for both of you, too.”
They stood in silence, gazes filled with longing locked to each other for a beat longer, he wanted to—
“Ty?”
Oren’s voice cut through the quiet like a warm breeze. He was walking up the path, hands in his pockets, uncertainty creasing his brow.
Ty turned slightly, posture relaxing. “I’m here.”
Dale instinctively melted back into the shadows, heart racing. He didn’t fully understand why—only that seeing Oren hurt had shaken him more deeply than he was ready to admit. It was too close. Too raw.
Oren stopped beside Ty, casting a glance toward the overlook where Dale had just been. “Somethings up with Dale. He’s been ... off. Distant. I don’t know what I did. He won’t even look at me half the time.”
Ty hummed low in his throat. “Sometimes people hide when they care too much. When they’re afraid.”
Oren gave a skeptical look. “Dale? Afraid? The guy practically bench-presses trucks.”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t get scared,” Ty said with a shrug.
Oren looked down, scuffing his boot against the dirt. “Maybe. But I just... I don’t know where I stand with either of you.”
“What do you feel for him?” Ty asked, carefully neutral.
Oren blinked. “I—what? I mean, I ... hell, I don’t know. He’s intense. Brave. Strong. Makes me feel like I’m seen.”
Ty grinned. “That sounded a lot like feelings.”
Oren rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. I have feelings. Which is weird, because up until a few years ago, I thought I was straight.”
Ty’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A few years? You only met Dale a few months ago.”
Oren held his gaze. “I know. The thought’s been there for a while.”
Then, without warning, Ty stepped in, cupping Oren’s jaw with one hand and kissing him hard. Dale’s breath caught as he watched from the shadows. He expected jealousy. What he felt was ... heat.
They broke apart when Oren moved to deepen it, and Ty pressed a hand to his chest.
“It’s okay to care for two people.” Ty said, his voice breathless, “I do, too. But I want something long-term. I want both of you. But I’m not rushing it. I’ll wait until you’re both ready. I won’t settle for anything less than forever.”
He kissed Oren again, swift and sure, then looked back deliberately toward the shadows where Dale stood before heading down the path toward the barracks.
Oren stared after him, lips parted, then murmured, “Not sure I deserve a forever. Not after ... not after what happened.”
Dale, hidden in the dark, felt the words hit like a gut-punch. It had to be Afghanistan. The captivity. The hurt.
How the hell was he going to build a forever with two men—when he’d been the one who’d left Oren behind to suffer?
In the distance, thunder rolled across the Ridge. Not from the sky.
Something else.
Something was coming.
The End
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