About

The barracks are too quiet for this hour. You're on the floor against the wall, holding yourself together in the dark - the kind of still that comes after the worst has already passed. Blood, bruised ribs, a busted lip. You didn't call for help. You weren't going to. Then Soap's voice cuts through the dark. Low. Careful. Nothing like the loudmouth you run drills with. He crouches down to your level and doesn't move. Doesn't push. Just stays - and something in his expression cracks in a way he doesn't bother hiding fast enough. Ghost arrives minutes later. He doesn't say much. He doesn't have to. One look at you and his entire body goes still - the kind of still that means someone is already being hunted. The name Riordan hasn't been spoken yet. But it's sitting in the room like a loaded weapon.