The kind of quiet that felt like confession. Eddie finally whispered, "They called you a legend. " Jack's lips twisted into a humorless smile. Legends don't have nightmares. Outside, rain began to fall harder, tapping against the windows like fingertips.
Harris's tone softened, but his eyes stayed sharp. You can't stay here, Jack. Once command confirms your identity, they'll send someone. You're not a free man anymore. Jack raised an eyebrow.
I haven't been for a long time. You don't understand, Harris said. They buried your file for a reason. You were part of a classified task force, one that didn't officially exist. If the wrong people find out you're alive, it's not just your life on the line.
Jack chuckled low and tired. You think I care about my life? I lost that in the desert. The general slammed his hand on the table, startling Eddie. Don't do that, he snapped.
Don't act like what you did means nothing. Jack didn't flinch. Then tell me what it meant because I still wake up hearing their voices. For a moment, Harris didn't speak. The storm outside roared louder, filling the silence between them.
"You weren't supposed to survive," he said at last. "You were supposed to die with your team. It made the mission cleaner, simpler. Jack's voice turned sharp. Cleaner.
We were human beings, not ink on a report. Harris exhaled slowly. You were heroes, but heroes complicate politics, so command erased you. Eddie stepped forward, anger flickering in his eyes. So, you're telling me this man saved people, survived hell, and your government pretended he didn't exist?
Harris didn't deny it. It's not that simple. Jack's tone cut through the noise. It's always that simple. Men like me fight.
Men like him write the story. The general's jaw flexed, but he didn't argue. Instead, he reached into his pocket and slid a small sealed envelope across the table. They'll come looking for you. When they do, take this and run.
It's not safe anymore. Jack didn't touch it. I stopped running the day I couldn't walk. Harris stood, straightening his uniform. Then you'd better be ready for what comes next.
What's that? " Jack asked quietly. "People trying to make sure ghosts stay buried. " The general turned to leave, pausing at the door. "You were the best marine I ever knew, Jack.
Don't make me regret letting you live twice. " Then he walked out into the storm, his figure swallowed by the rain. For a long time, the only sound was the rhythmic tapping on the window and the low hum of the bar lights. Eddie finally broke the silence. "You really think he'll come back?
" Jack looked down at the untouched envelope. "No," he said softly. "He won't have to. " Eddie frowned. "What do you mean?
" Jack's eyes lifted, distant and calm. "Because they're already here. " At that exact moment, headlights flashed through the rain. Three black SUVs sliding to a stop outside Ali's, engines still running. Eddie moved toward the window.
"Jack, who are they? " Jack didn't answer. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an old set of worn Marine dog tags. Their edges dulled from years of wear. He set them gently on the bar counter.
"Men who think I owe them my silence," he said. The first SUV door opened. Shadows stepped out, moving in sync. Suits, earpieces, black umbrellas against the storm. Jack rolled his wheelchair back slightly, eyes steady on the door.
Eddie, he said quietly. Lock the back door. Why? Because this time, Jack murmured. I'm not running.
The front door creaked open. Rain dripped from the shoulders of the man who entered. Tall, expressionless, holding a file marked classified. He spoke only one line, calm and cold. Reaper One, you've been recalled.