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“Want me to follow?” D-Day asked.

“No,” Zorro said, already moving. “I’ve got it.”

“Martinez.” Zorro paused mid-stride, looking over his shoulder at Joker.

“I saw him too.”

Of course he did. Joker missed nothing.

Zorro moved faster now, crossing to the edge of the block. He rounded the corner, boots brushing loose gravel, pulse tightening in that low, certain way it always did when a pattern clicked into place too late to be comfortable.

The alley behind the wall was empty.

Still.

The scent of smoke and brake fluid hung in the air. A water hose coiled near a cinderblock wall dripped steadily, like something had disturbed it and vanished.

Zorro walked slowly. All the weapons had been stowed in the SUV. He passed a rusted gate. A crooked window. He paused.

There. Scuff marks. Fresh. The dust hadn’t had time to settle.

He knelt, touched one with his fingers, then looked up at the wall. There was a partial print in the concrete, one foot up. A boost. Someone had scaled it. Recently.

Zorro straightened slowly. He couldn’t reach her heart but if something was coming, he’d damn sure shield her body. Even if she never let him back in.

Behind him, Buck arrived in silence. “He cleared it?”

“Yeah.”

D-Day cursed softly. “We’re getting watched.”

Zorro’s jaw tightened. “This wasn’t random. He was observing patterns. Watching who came out. Who stayed behind. Saw the rotations.”

“You think he’s part of Batista’s network?” D-Day asked.

Zorro didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

The moment Joker had said I saw him too, it stopped being a maybe.

It became a problem.

The minute they grabbed their bags out of the back of the SUV, Joker said, “Get your gear stored away and secure your weapons in the armory, then my room in fifteen.”

Zorro had texted Everly a stream of nonsense on the way back to the hotel, but there was still nothing but silence from her. Even his invitation to dinner had gone unanswered.

They took care of the gear and weapons, then walked to LT’s room.

The room was quiet, lit only by the soft lamplight at the corner desk. The air carried the scent of scorched sunblock, dried sweat, and boot leather, the kind that clung after a full day spent in the field. Outside, the lights of Rio blinked and shimmered like an indifferent galaxy.

Joker stood at the window with a hand braced against the frame, his reflection barely visible in the glass. He hadn’t changed out of his training gear yet. He hadn’t moved much at all.

Behind him, the door shut with a quiet click. The team had gathered, Zorro, Buck, D-Day, Blitz, Professor, then Bear, Flint, and Gator joined them. No one spoke. They didn’t need to be called. They knew this rhythm. Joker turned.

His voice wasn’t raised, but it carried.

“They didn’t invite us here because they needed training partners. They needed insurance. I was told the optics of this op were delicate. Said our actions in the Philippines prompted the political opportunity.”

Blitz’s brow furrowed. “You mean they used us.”

Joker’s jaw ticked. “Not surprised. Not even mad. But we’re not anyone’s optic.”

He paused, voice lowering.

“BOPE’s under siege. Not by bullets. By doubt. Batista’s trying to strip them of public trust, make the government desperate enough to reach for something darker. We’re being used to prop them up until the next move plays out.”

Zorro’s voice was soft but sure. “You’re staying in.”

Joker met his gaze.

“I’m committed to this. Not for the Ministry. Not for headlines. But because those men out there? They’re warriors. Just like us. Maybe smaller in scope, maybe narrower in mission, but no less important to the people they serve.”

He looked around the room again, and for the first time, there was something almost quiet in his voice.

He looked over his shoulder. “Good work today. BOPE’s sharp. They’ve got their hands full, but they move clean. Solid instincts. Hopefully we gave them something they can use.”

Buck cracked his neck. “They’ve seen some shit.”

“Yeah,” Joker said. “They have risen to the occasion and will continue to do so.” He nodded. “Now get out of here. Hydrate, refuel, and rest. We’re going to get back at it tomorrow.”

After the debrief in Joker’s room, Blitz’s disembodied voice drifted to them as they looked around for him. “I wonder if they have those juice boxes in the vending machines?”

D-Day sighed. “Where the fuck is he?”

Gator laughed softly. “He’s looking for the ones with the cartoon jaguar on them…tropical punch…his favorite.”

“Yeah? Well, they should come with a warning label. May cause spontaneous knife fights and existential clarity,” Zorro muttered

Laughter huffed out and they dispersed one by one. But D-Day lingered.

He followed Zorro down the hall and caught up just before he reached his door.

“You think no one noticed you were off, man?” D’s voice was low, rough. He jerked his chin toward Everly’s room. “You letting her get to you? What the fuck’s going on now?”

Zorro shrugged. “So, I was off. Everyone has bad days.”

D-Day snorted. “Not you.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t want anything to do with us. You should just cut her loose. Looks like she already cut you.”

A voice broke in, female, steady, sharp . “Drew.” D-Day winced. Zorro turned and saw Helen approaching. Her tone was soft, but no less firm. “It’s time for you to change for dinner.”

D-Day growled under his breath. “She’s leading him around by his dick.”

Helen didn’t raise her voice. She stepped into his space, palm resting gently over his heart.

“He’s had your back, now you’ll have his. Stop acting like you don’t understand what he’s going through.”

D-Day closed his eyes, exhaled through his nose, then nodded once. “Z…I just—” He had to wonder if his face looked like D-Day’s when Zorro looked at Everly.

Zorro chuckled. “I know where your heart is, D. It’s your mouth that’s getting on my nerves.”

D flipped him off, muttering something that sounded like I hate feelings, and stomped away.

Helen stayed.

For a long beat, she just looked at Zorro.

Then she stepped in and wrapped her arms around him, holding tight.

“This whole team thinks you handle rejection well.” Her voice was low.

“But no one is immune. Not even you.” She pulled back, her gaze steady.

“What we do takes a toll. But don’t drown, Mateo. It’s easy to do. I know.”

Zorro swallowed hard.

“Being enough,” she said, “is not something you have to prove. You can’t fix everything.

Sometimes people need to handle their own mending.

My husband did and I let him because that brought him to me fully as his own man.

” Her voice dropped. “That was worth it, the waiting, the agonizing, and when he was ready, he told me everything.” She nudged him gently. “You understand?”

Zorro’s throat felt too tight to speak. He looked away, nodded once.

“My husband is being a butt because he cares about you.”

He let out a choked laugh. “I know. That’s why I haven’t decked him.”

She smiled.

“But Helen…” His voice cracked just slightly. “I care about her.”

Helen nodded. “I know. So don’t give up.” She paused. “I didn’t give up on Drew.”

Everly stood with her back against the door.Again, she was eavesdropping and it wasn’t right. But she couldn’t help herself. D-Day was wrong. She hadn’t cut Zorro loose.She was trying to process everything that had happened in what felt like a single breathless span of days.

Her heart clenched at Zorro’s voice. I care about her.

God.

She wanted to throw the door open and rush into his arms, lean into him.

But she wouldn’t let him fix this. That wasn’t for him to do.

That was for her to deal with. But when this was over, she wanted that comfort he would provide without expecting anything in return.

She knew that about him now. After the baby, after all his quiet, selfless acts, but most of all, after that phone call to his mom.

He was good. Not just kind. Not just brave.

Good.

But in her current state of mind, going to him now would only be unfair to him, and to herself.

If she didn’t do this perfectly, or at least ethically , then she wouldn’t just fail him ….

She’d betray the version of herself that had fought so hard to survive Rob.

She had to work through this. She would never dishonor Zorro by giving him a heart still tangled in someone else’s memory. It wasn’t grief she felt anymore. No. She wasn’t going to give in to any petty, base emotions here. No rage. No resentment.

Rob had been her terrible mistake. Her mistake.

What could she give Zorro while still handling the fallout from her marriage that was never what she pretended it to be?

If she couldn’t be accountable for her compliance in her own downfall, then she wouldn’t be worthy of Mateo Martinez.

She gasped softly, and she wanted to be worthy of such a man.

Only the honorable things would do here, and it was a tangle to unravel.

She needed to break it down.

Rob hadn’t betrayed her. He was never committed to her in the first place.

It was her perception of his betrayal that she had to face and own.

Rob had never loved her. It was her fucked up view of love that made her desperate for a connection.

Rob hadn’t respected her, her work, her contributions, or her dedication.

He had used her, and she had let him because of something missing inside herself. That’s what it all boiled down to.

She’d learned it early. That goodness was safety. That if she was polished, calm, exceptional, she’d be loved. No wonder Rob had felt like a solution. He didn’t love her either but at least he expected what she’d already been taught to give.

If she was facing that, understanding that she had been conditioned to look at love this way, then she had to look also at her fear.