Page 46 of Secret Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #5)
Admiral Knight entered with the measured stride of a man who'd received both good and bad news in equal measure over the years. He looked tired, his gray hair disheveled in a way Kenji had rarely seen, but his eyes remained sharp as ever.
"Marshall," he said simply, pulling the visitor's chair closer to the bed without ceremony.
"Sir." Kenji tried to push himself more upright, immediately regretting it as his stitches pulled. The sharp pain was almost welcome—a distraction from what was coming.
"Easy." The Admiral settled into the chair with a slight grimace of his own. Twenty-four hours of crisis management had clearly taken its toll, even on someone with his legendary endurance. "How's the side?"
"Fine, sir. Doc says it'll heal clean."
Through the door's small window, Kenji could see his team clustered in the hallway—Axel gesturing animatedly about something, Maya on her phone, Deke leaning against the wall. His found family, still there despite everything. Still unaware of how completely he'd betrayed their trust.
"Good." Admiral Knight leaned back, studying him with those eyes that had seen through countless deceptions over the years. "Ronan says you wanted to talk to me. Something that couldn't wait for you to be discharged."
Kenji gripped the edge of the thin hospital blanket, needing something to hold onto. "Yes, sir. I need to tell you why I was really Orchid Isle."
The Admiral's expression shifted to carefully neutral. "Go on."
"I have a gambling problem." The words came out steadier than he expected. "I've had one for months. I lost twenty-five thousand dollars in that poker tournament. The buy-in money—it wasn't for operational cover. It was my debt to a bookie."
The confession hung between them in the antiseptic hospital air. Through the door's window, Kenji noticed his team had gone suspiciously still out in the hallway.
"The mission was real. Vega, the threat to the civilians, all of it. But I lied about the money. Used the operational funds you wired to pay off my gambling debt. I've been lying for months. Hiding it from the team. From you. From myself."
Admiral Knight was quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving Kenji's face. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of command experience.
"How long?"
"Six months since it got bad. Started with small bets—just something to take the edge off during missions. Then Vegas happened, and I discovered real action." Kenji's hands clenched the hospital blanket. "By the time I admitted I had a problem, I was already drowning."
"And the twenty-five thousand?"
"Paid off with the operational funds. My bookie's satisfied. But that doesn't make what I did right."
The Admiral leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and Kenji braced for the explosion. Dismissal. Disgrace. Everything he deserved.
"Son," Knight said finally, "I've seen good men struggle with worse. What matters is what you do next."
"I want help," Kenji said immediately. "Real help. Not just white-knuckling it and hoping. I need treatment, accountability, whatever it takes."
"Good." The Admiral's stance relaxed slightly. "Because that's exactly what you're getting. Soon as you're cleared medically, you're checking into a program. Thirty days minimum. The team will cover your responsibilities."
"Sir, I?—"
"I'm not finished." Knight's tone brooked no argument.
"After treatment, you'll have mandatory counseling.
Weekly at first, then we'll reassess. You'll be on operational restrictions—no missions involving casinos, no financial responsibilities for the team, and regular check-ins with me personally. "
Each restriction felt like a weight being added, but paradoxically, Kenji felt lighter. Structure. Accountability. Consequences. It was what he'd needed all along.
"Furthermore," the Admiral continued, "you'll attend GA meetings. I don't care if you have to fly to one—you don't miss meetings. And Marshall?" His expression softened slightly. "This isn't punishment. This is support. You're too valuable to lose to this addiction."
"Copy that, sir." Kenji's voice was thick with emotion he couldn't quite name. Relief? Gratitude? Shame? All of the above.
"One more thing." Knight leaned back in the chair. "The money's already handled. Operational expense, like you said. But that's the last time Knight Tactical covers your gambling debts. Clear?"
"Crystal, sir."
"Good man." The Admiral's expression grew wry. "Now, you want to tell me why your entire team is lurking outside that door trying to pretend they're not eavesdropping?"
Through the small window, he caught a glimpse of Ronan quickly stepping back, Axel suddenly very interested in a ceiling tile.
"Subtle as always," the Admiral called out, raising his voice. "You might as well come in."
The door opened and his team filed in with varying degrees of sheepishness. The small hospital room suddenly felt very crowded with tactical operators trying to look casual.
"We weren't eavesdropping," Deke said. "We were... conducting medical oversight."
"From the hallway?" Admiral Knight's eyebrow rose. "Through a closed door?"
"We were worried," Izzy said bluntly. "Kenji looked like he was heading to his own execution when you walked in."
"We've got your back," Ronan said, meeting Kenji's eyes directly. "Through recovery, through whatever comes next. That's what family does."
The tension broke like a dam. Despite the hospital setting, despite the confession he'd just made, Kenji found himself surrounded by acceptance. No judgment about the addiction. No disappointment about the lies. Just his team being themselves.
"For what it's worth," Maya said from her position by the door, "we kind of suspected something was off. The way you always volunteered for Vegas missions but came back twitchy. How you'd disappear during leave."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because you weren't ready to hear it," Zara said simply, looking up from her tablet. "Addicts have to choose recovery. It can't be forced."
"Plus we figured you'd eventually do something spectacularly stupid and have to come clean," Izzy added from where she'd claimed the other visitor chair. "Though bringing a ceiling down on yourself was pretty spectacular, even for you."
A nurse appeared in the doorway, looking mildly exasperated at the crowd in her patient's room. "I'm sorry, but visiting hours?—"
"We're just leaving," Admiral Knight said, standing smoothly. "Marshall needs his rest." He turned back to Kenji. "You did the right thing, son. Coming forward when you could have hidden it. That takes courage."
"It took Cassidy," Kenji admitted. "She saw right through me from day one. Made me want to be better than I was."
"Ah." The Admiral's expression grew knowing. "The poker player. Interesting woman."
"It's complicated."
"The best things usually are." Knight moved toward the door, gently herding the team out.
The guys left with various promises to return with better coffee (Axel), treatment center research (Maya), and possibly contraband food (Deke). As the room emptied, only Ronan lingered for a moment.
"Proud of you, brother," he said simply, then followed the others out.
Alone again in his hospital room, Kenji felt something he hadn't experienced in months—hope that wasn't tied to the next bet or the next win. Real hope, built on truth and accountability and the knowledge that he wasn't alone.
His phone buzzed on the bedside table.
Cassidy: Heard you talked to him. Proud of you. Rest now. We'll talk soon.
Simple words, but they warmed him more than any jackpot ever had.