“Everything’s closed,” Hesh grumbled from the passenger seat, glaring at his phone. “Even the gas station shut down.”

“No one's cooking at base at this hour,” Merrick added from behind the wheel. “And we’re not eating MREs. Again.”

Logan looked over at you. “Got any snacks left in your pack?”

You shook your head. “Last thing I had was gum. Riley ate it.” The dog in question wagged his tail in the backseat like he hadn’t committed snack theft.

Then Keegan, silent until now, looked up from his map app. “There’s a place. Twenty minutes. Strip club. Open 24/7. Has a buffet.” Everyone went quiet.

“A strip club buffet?” you asked slowly.

Hesh shrugged. “At this point? I’ll eat off the damn stage.”

Merrick put the truck in drive. “Don’t say that out loud.”

The club was bathed in pink neon, pulsing bass vibrating through the pavement as you all walked in tactical gear, combat boots, and one very happy military dog. Riley sniffed the air and immediately beelined toward the buffet. You honestly didn’t blame him. Inside, dancers twirled on stage while the team made a straight line for the food. Wings, sliders, and... was that lasagna?