Task Force 141 had been through hell all month. A mission gone catastrophically wrong had exposed the identities of their families to dangerous eyes, and now everyone with someone worth protecting was bringing them back to base. The air was thick with urgency—every hallway, every guard post, every reinforced door a reminder that if anyone tried something, they’d be met by the full force of those who cared most. Safety here was absolute, but it came at the cost of constant vigilance.

Simon Riley had always been known as a cold man. A ghost. A killer. To most, the idea that he had anyone waiting for him—anyone who mattered—seemed impossible. Yet, despite the hardened exterior and the ruthless reputation, he had someone. Someone whose life mattered enough to him that he’d put it above his own.

Simon stood with Price and Soap near the main entrance, observing the stream of arrivals. Loved ones reunited with operatives, tears and laughter mixing with relief and the undercurrent of tension that always clung to TF 141. Families were hugged tightly, friends clasped hands, and even hardened soldiers allowed themselves a rare smile.

Soap nudged Simon with a smirk. “Expecting anyone?”

Simon’s eyes followed a small figure moving cautiously toward him. “Someone. Yes.”

Price and Soap exchanged surprised glances. They’d never seen Simon’s expression soften like this, never seen the faint tension in his jaw loosen. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a crack in the armor that only those closest could recognize.

“Really?” Soap said, raising an eyebrow. “Riley, you’ve got someone waiting for you? Didn’t think that was in your... repertoire.”