Page 72

Toby had grown older but never grown up. Still saw the world in equations and starlight. Still needed someone to help tie his shoes. Still made Brawler believe in something good.
“T-Rex, huh?” Brawler said, voice easy. “You got a favorite dino, little man?”
“Stegosaurus!” Ezra announced proudly. “With plates and everything!”
Flash leaned in. “What did the stegosaurus say to the velociraptor?”
Ezra blinked. “What?”
“Nothing. He was extinct.”
Groans rippled. Even Beast gave a huff like he was offended, but the kids burst into giggles.
“That was a knee-slapper, Uncle Jae!” Elijah crowed.
“Elijah’s been learning pool,” Shark said. “Kid’s got a mean break.”
Quinn raised a brow at Shark with that fierce mom-glare. Shark cleared his throat and looked away. “Good skill to have.” Shark defended.
Elijah nodded. “Uncle Bale taught me! Uncle Matt showed us this game…um…”
“T-ball, Eli,” Easy said, smiling softly.
“I’m teaching them pool safety,” Twister said with mock gravitas. “You know, the boring stuff.”
Brawler just watched them, those boys, reaching for every familiar face on the screen like they belonged. Like this team wasn’t just backup or babysitters
There was something sacred about innocence like theirs, bright, unfiltered, untouched by the worst of the world.
But one day, they’d lose it. They already had, in some ways.
Their father’s death would shape them. Life would press in. Innocence would slip away, piece by piece. Toby’s would remain pure, a purity the world couldn’t chip away. Maybe that’s whyBrawler carried his memory like armor. Because Toby didn’t just remind him of what was good.
Hewaswhat was good.
The call began winding down, kisses, waves, last jokes. Quinn’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she held the line.
Then she turned to him and threw her arms around Dagger, fierce, grateful, no hesitation. Brawler saw it land like a blow in Dagger’s chest.
He’d given her this moment. Made it possible.
Brawler watched it hit her. He and his brothers weren’t just SEALs. They were family. For her sons. Because of Dagger.
No one could replace their father, but six warriors had damn sure tried.
Elijah glanced between them, something dawning in his young face. He elbowed Ezra, who was roaring his dino across the screen. Ezra paused, then whispered something.
“Hey, Mom?”
Quinn’s voice wobbled. “Yes, baby?” She brushed at her eyes, her expression soft, breaking.
“You’re not mad at Uncle Kade anymore?”
The room went still.
Quinn looked sideways at Dagger, a small breath escaping. “No,” she said. “I’m not.”
Ezra’s smile lit the screen. “That’s good. You love him like us.”