He had hated needing me then.
He hated it more now.
“What?” he said, spreading his hands. “I’m just asking. You’ve got a call sign, Harper?”
The table waited.
I could have deflected.
I should have deflected.
But Maddox’s eyes had sharpened.
And the envelope in my jacket suddenly felt heavier than paper.
So I looked at my brother and said, “Iron Ten.”
Mason blinked.
Then he burst out laughing.
“No way they gave you a call sign.”
The young Marines laughed too because Mason laughed first.
That was how weak men built courage.
In groups.
Mason wiped at one eye.
“Iron Ten? Seriously? That sounds like a protein powder.”
One of the Marines said, “Or a gym in Texas.”
Another said, “Or a bad action movie.”
But Staff Sergeant Maddox did not laugh.
He stared at me as if the room had tilted under him.
Then he slowly put both hands flat on the table.
