Chapter 23
LEVI
We piled into an oversized SUV—something heavy and ridiculously expensive, all black leather and tinted windows—and it was like we were kids again.
Everyone talked over everyone else.
Caleb was giving Jacob shit about something that happened last month.
Jacob fired back with a story about Caleb getting his ass kicked in a bar fight somewhere.
Lucas was laughing so hard he had tears in my eyes.
Gideon just shook his head, grinning like he'd seen this movie a hundred times and still loved it.
Ethan drove in silence, smiling and nodding along, occasionally catching my eye in the rearview mirror.
Our Shield.
That's what we'd always called him. The biggest, the steadiest, the one who didn't need to say much because his presence said enough.
"Where are we going?" I finally asked, raising my voice over the chaos.
"It's a secret," Jacob said.
"A very important secret," Lucas added.
"Life-changing," Gideon said.
"You're all assholes," I said.
They laughed.
We ended up at a beach.
Private. Pristine. The kind of place that probably didn't exist on any public map.
Smooth sand stretched out in both directions, bordered by dunes and sea grass.
The water was calm, the kind of blue that made you want to dive in and never come back.
A volleyball net was set up near the waterline, the poles sunk deep into the sand.
There was a full bar—actual glass bottles, a cooler stocked with ice, two servers in white polo shirts standing by like they'd been teleported in from a resort.
And a dining table.
A long, low table set up under a canopy, already loaded with platters of something that smelled like heaven.
"What the hell is this?" I asked.
Caleb grinned. "Meghan insisted we play in style. Volleyball, then a crawfish boil."
"This is how Danes do it now," Lucas said, clapping me on the shoulder.
I stared at the setup. The bar. The servers. The table groaning under the weight of food.
"Is the money real?" I asked, suddenly serious.
The laughter died down.
Ethan was the one to respond. He stepped closer, hands in his pockets, that steady gaze locked on mine.
"Yes," he said. "There are billions. And yes, they belong to you, too."
I couldn't believe it.
Billions.
Not millions. Not some modest trust fund. Billions.
I opened my mouth to ask something—how, why, what the fuck—but Jacob whooped and Gideon grabbed me by the arm and suddenly I was being dragged toward the volleyball net, and the questions evaporated in a wave of noise and energy.
It was like we were kids again. Raucous. Having fun for the sake of having fun.
We played three-on-three beach volleyball for an hour. Caleb, Jacob, and Lucas on one side. Me, Ethan, and Gideon on the other. The scores were tight. The competition was fierce.
Jacob dove for a ball and came up with a mouthful of sand, cursing. Ethan spiked one so hard it left a crater in the sand on their side. Lucas trash-talked like his life depended on it, and Gideon just grinned and set me up for kill shots like we'd been practicing together for years.
We tied two games to two. Nobody cared.
I was laughing so hard my ribs hurt. My lungs burned. My legs felt like jelly. And I realized, standing there with sand in my shoes and sweat dripping down my back, that this was fun I'd never thought I'd have again.
I wondered why our father wasn't here. I didn't ask. Just wondered. Maybe Byron Dane knew his boys needed their time alone.
When the match was over, we descended on the crawfish like locusts. Sausage. Corn on the cob. Potatoes. All of it boiled in spices that made my eyes water and my mouth sing. Beer flowed freely. Whiskey appeared. One of the servers kept refilling glasses like it was his sacred duty.
It was a full-on party. And I was having the time of my life. I didn't realize how much I'd missed this. How much I'd missed them.
We ate until we couldn't move, laughing and shoving and stealing food off each other's plates like we were teenagers again.
Caleb told a story about the first time he'd met Meghan. Jacob talked about Camille showing up in his life like a force of nature, challenging everything he thought he knew. Gideon described meeting Hazel, how she'd been guarded and had somehow wormed her way into his heart, anyway.
Ethan just smiled, quiet and content, and when he finally spoke, it was about Natalie. About a woman who could command a room full of politicians and still make him feel like the only person who mattered.
And Lucas described Lexi like she'd stepped out of a dream he didn't know he'd been having.
I thought about Amelia. About the way she'd looked at me this morning, eyes soft and trusting. About the way she'd laughed when my brothers roasted me.
I wanted to tell them about her. About us. About how she'd stood on the veranda last night and held me together when I was falling apart.
But I didn't.
Not yet.
Some things were still too new. Too fragile.
When we were finished—full to the point of pain—we dragged the folding chairs down to the water and sat in a long row, feet in the surf, drinks in hand.
The sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the sand. The water lapped at our ankles, cool and steady.
For a while, nobody said anything.
Then Caleb spoke.
"So," he said. "What was your military career like, Levi?"
I blinked. "What?"
"Your career," he said. "What'd you do? Where'd you go?"
I glanced at the others. They were all watching me, curious and attentive.
"Uh," I said. "Intel, mostly. Counterintelligence. A lot of time overseas. Middle East, Europe. Some stuff I can't talk about."
"Paris?" Jacob asked.
I stiffened. "How do you—"
"Dad told us," Gideon said. "Not the details. Just that you'd been busy."
I exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Paris."
"What else?" Lucas asked.
So, I told them.
Not everything. But enough.
The assignments. The close calls. The times I'd been shot at, the times I'd almost been caught. The work that kept me up at night and the work that made me feel like I was doing something that mattered.
They listened, asking questions, nodding along.
And I realized, with a sharp pang of embarrassment, that most of this was news to them.
They told me about their careers in turn.
All special forces. Every one of us had seen our fair share of combat.
We'd scattered across the globe.
Different branches. Different missions. Different wars.
And now here we all were again.
Brothers. Family.
Another byproduct of our father leaving.
We'd had to find our own paths. Build our own lives. And in doing so, we'd lost track of each other.
But not anymore.
"What about Micah?" I asked.
The mood shifted slightly.
Gideon took a sip of his beer, then said, "He comes next."
I frowned. "Next?"
"He’ll get an invite," Caleb said. "Just like we did. Just like you."
I sensed there was a catch.
There was.
Jacob leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Amelia needs to help."
I went still. "What?"
"Her sources," Jacob said. "They're the closest we've come to The Vanguard's tentacles. We need the intel. So we can do something. Finally strike back instead of waiting to get hit."
My stomach twisted.
"I'll try," I said. "But her morals are sound. She believes in her work. She's not going to hand over her sources just because I ask nicely."
"We know," Caleb said. "We're not asking you to force her. We're asking you to talk to her. Explain what's at stake."
I looked at Ethan.
He was watching me, steady and calm.
"If she were to find out she was on the wrong side of the story," Ethan said quietly, "would that change her mind?"
I thought about that.
Amelia had spent her entire life chasing the truth. Exposing corruption. Holding power accountable.
If she found out her sources were lying to her—using her—would that change her mind?
Yes.
It would.
But I didn't see how that was possible.
"Maybe," I said.
Ethan nodded, took a sip of his beer. "Charleston has a way of shaking out the truth."
The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous.
I didn't know what he meant.
Little did I know, the truth was about to find me.
We sat there until the sun started to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
The water was warm around our ankles. The beer was cold in our hands.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged somewhere.
Not just to a unit. Not just to a mission.
But to a family.
My brothers talked and laughed and told stories, and I soaked it all in, memorizing the sound of their voices, the way they moved, the way they looked at each other with that particular brand of brotherly affection that was equal parts love and mockery.
I thought about Amelia. About the ladies taking her to lunch. About her sitting across from Meghan and Hazel and Natalie and Camille and Lexi, trying to figure out how she fit into all of this.
I hoped they were being kind to her. I thought they probably were.
"What are you thinking about?" Gideon asked.
"Amelia," I admitted.
Jacob grinned. "You've got it bad."
"Yeah," I said. "I do."
"Good," Caleb said. "She seems like she can handle you."
"She can," I said. "Better than I can handle myself, probably."
Ethan chuckled. "That's how you know it's real."
I looked at him. "How?"
"When they see you at your worst," he said, "and they stay, anyway."
I thought about the veranda. About the way Amelia had held me while I broke apart. About the way she'd looked at me this morning and said I love you like it was the simplest, truest thing in the world.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "She stayed."
"Then you're a lucky bastard," Lucas said.
"I know," I said.
We packed up as the sun dipped below the horizon.
The servers had already cleared the table, the bar, the chairs. The volleyball net was still up, swaying gently in the breeze.
I took one last look at the beach—at the place where, for a few hours, I'd felt like a kid again.
Then we climbed back into the SUV and headed back to Dominion Hall.
Back to reality.
Back to whatever came next.