On the back, written in block letters:
IRON TEN COMES HOME WHEN LITTLE BROTHER BLEEDS.
Mason read it over my shoulder.
I felt him stop breathing.
The folded page was worse.
Coordinates.
Three names.
One date.
Tomorrow.
And at the bottom:
BRING THE WATCH.
My wrist seemed to burn under the black face of that old, scratched watch.
Maddox looked at it.
Then at me.
“What is that?”
The door glass cracked under a baton strike.
The bartender ducked.
Civilians cried out.
I slid the memory card into my pocket.
Then I looked at Mason.
Really looked at him.
At the brother who had mocked me.
At the Marine who had needed to be the hero so badly he forgot heroes could be tired.
At the boy I had left behind to save men he would one day serve beside.
“I need you to listen to me exactly,” I said.
