Hallowed Ground

“Yep,” I answered, trying to shut off my brain.

“Well, I guess it’s only fitting. I mean, you were my last flight, too.” He cracked a smile, and I couldn’t help but give a little laugh.

“Yeah, let’s just keep it in the sky this time, shall we?”

“Nervous?” he asked.

“A little,” I admitted. We’d been here almost two weeks and had finally come up on the actual flight rotation. I’d been okay with the break. It wasn’t even the fear of flying—I’d gotten over that back at Campbell—but I was a little anxious to see how I’d react in the field.

“Good. It keeps you humble.” He punched my shoulder. “You submit that SOAR packet yet?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

“Is that what you really want?”

I shrugged. “It isn’t really for me.”

“It’s a hell of a life to live for someone else.”

“It’s a hell of a debt to pay.” Whether or not I wanted to, it was the most I could do to earn the life Will had given me. It wasn’t fair to Ember, and she would never understand what I’d done. Hell, I barely understood. Besides, if they invited me, it’s not like I had to assess. I’d see where Ember stood on the subject and go from there.

“And how is Mrs. Walker? I’ve missed cookie days.”

Like he’d ripped a scab off my heart, I weakened, emotionally bleeding out. At least it was internal and no one could see. “Not sure. She’s working in Turkey for a couple months.”

“Ah, international traveler. She’s a good woman. You should definitely lock that down.”

Unfortunately, I’d done the fucking opposite. “What happened to no women until you’re out?”

He scoffed. “Ah, man. That was my personal philosophy. I’m not hunting them down. You already found the right one, and given the level of shit you’ve put her through, and she’s still standing? Yeah, keeper.”

Any response I might have made was cut off by the radio call. It was go time.

Adrenaline flooded my system as we ran for the bird. The gravel flew under my feet, and my leg held steady, just as it had over the miles I’d been running the last month.

My copilot started the run-up, and I did a double take. Logically, I’d known Trivette wouldn’t be sitting there, but CW3 Stiver’s bulky frame still caught me off guard. He was efficient as we finished the checklist and waited for the official request to come in.

Six minutes after the initial call, we were airborne. The sky was crystal clear and perfect for flying as we headed toward the coordinates. I handled the controls while CW3 Stiver took the radio, coordinating the extraction.

“How’s our LZ?” he asked.

“We’re red,” the voice answered.

Fuck. There were two Alphas down there who needed immediate surgery.

“What do you say, boys?” Stiver asked over the coms.

“Let’s do it,” one of the medics answered.

I glanced over my shoulder at Rizzo. He gave a sardonic headshake and then sighed. “I’m in.”

Stiver took the controls and looked at me. For the first time in my career, I hesitated. I brushed my hand over the picture of Ember on my kneeboard—I’d replaced the blood-stained one. This wasn’t about the rush, it was about those lives on the ground that I could save…or die trying. “Let’s go.”

It’s a good day to die. I couldn’t say it, couldn’t bring myself to form the words, but that didn’t mean they didn’t race through my brain. Everything but the mission fell away, and my focus sharpened on exactly what mattered at the moment—saving those soldiers. I didn’t flinch or hesitate again.

We completed our mission, and in the process of rescuing those soldiers, I saved a little bit of myself as well. Maybe if I did this enough times, I’d be almost whole, almost enough to fight for Ember.

Or maybe she was right, and each mission was an amped-up game of Russian roulette. Maybe I was ushering in my own demise.

At least it wouldn’t be hers.

Chapter Thirty-Three

EMBER

I zipped up my Vanderbilt hoodie and headed out into the morning chill, my coffee hot in my travel mug. I took a sip and cringed. The only creamer Luke had been able to find had been all the way in Izmir, powdered and unflavored. I’d hoped I’d get used to it after a month, but apparently my taste buds were more homesick than I was.

I didn’t miss the States yet, or even the internet, but every molecule in my body screamed with missing Josh. I looked to the east, where I knew, forty-five hundred miles away, he was probably on shift. Please be safe. Just be okay.

A deep breath later, I forced him to the back of my mind. Well, tried to, at least.

The sun was already bright, the temperature mild for September. I skipped down the steps of our little setup of rowed trailers and crossed the cypress-tree-lined dirt road into the ruins. At seven thirty a.m., I had about a half hour before the busloads of tourists began arriving.

Morning was my favorite time in Ephesus. Except for the few other dig members who got up early, the ruins were vacant, hauntingly beautiful. I made my way down the rough cobblestone street, keeping to the left so I could look at the uncovered mosaic tile walkway that the ancient Romans had used in front of their shops. It was hard to believe that something so beautiful, so intricate, was made to be walked on, or that it had survived thousands of years before being uncovered.