Price decided to take his team to an old country rodeo—far enough from anything classified, close enough to keep an eye on each other. He called it a break. No one argued.

Soap scanned the grounds, eyes already moving, never still. “Didn’t think ‘time off’ meant dust and livestock,” he muttered, half-grin in place like he was daring someone to disagree.

“You’ll survive,” Price said evenly. “Behave yourselves. These people are friendly—right up until they aren’t.”

Ghost didn’t respond. His gaze tracked the entrance, then the stands, then the exits—counting without counting.

Gaz let out a quiet breath, “Could be worse. At least it’s real.” A pause. “Real people. Real noise.”

König tugged at his sleeve, eyes fixed on the arena dirt. Too open. Too many eyes. He shifted closer to the group without realizing it.