Mara O'Connel stood in front of a rolling whiteboard, arms folded, sizing up the four team leaders assigned to the mission.
To her left: Team Leader Briggs. Next to him, Team Leader Camille Vance, spinning a pen between her quick fingers. In the back, Team Leader Jax Hart. And leaning against a pillar, Team Leader Torin Ren.
"Where's the Captain?" Torin finally asked, unable to hold it in any longer.
"Indisposed," Mara said flatly. "He'll meet us at the rally point. Until then, I'm running the briefing."
A low murmur spread through the warehouse. "Indisposed" was the thinnest possible veil. Everyone knew what it really meant: Elias had found a way to dodge the meeting.
Briggs let out a deep growl from his chest. "He pulls this every big mission."
"And every time, we walk away," Camille fired back, pen still twirling. "Coincidence? I don't think so."
"Back to the agenda," Mara cut in, pulling every eye to her. She tapped the board. A holographic map of Greenridge flickered to life, the S-rift throbbing red at the center. "Rift opens in under seventeen hours. Ironveil leads the main push on the Boss. Clover holds the eastern perimeter. Our job is cleanup—nemeses on the western and southern flanks."
Torin made a disgusted noise. "Cleanup. They're making us the janitors."
"An essential job," Jax said, eyes still on his tablet. "If the nemeses spill over, they'll hit Ironveil from the sides. Their op fails. Ours, boring as it sounds, is what keeps them alive."
"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Camille said. "Really boosts the morale."
"Engagement zones," Mara went on. She highlighted four sectors. "Briggs, your team takes the main intersection. Vance, right flank. Hart, left flank—open ground. Ren, you're held back in reserve support."
The team leaders nodded.
"Comms stay open on frequency 7. Any deviation from plan gets reported immediately. Retreat protocols are pre-loaded on your terminals. If Ironveil command goes down, we fall back to Jaeger survival protocol… edition 12, I believe."
"The 'Run Like Hell in Style' edition," Briggs said with a crooked grin. "Captain rewrote it last year. Shorter version."
Mara pressed her lips together. "Any questions?"
Jax raised a hand. "What if the Boss shows up in our sector?"
"Evacuate and ping Ironveil. We're not geared for it."
"But if there's no time?" he pressed.
"Then we improvise," a lazy voice drawled from the doorway.
Every head snapped around.
Elias Mercer was slouched against the frame, coffee mug in hand, eyes bloodshot but awake enough. Uniform on, jacket open, no tie.
"Captain!" Torin said.
"Present and accounted for. Sorry I'm late. I was in heavy negotiations with my mattress. Damn near lost." Elias limped forward, stopping beside Mara. He studied the hologram. "Hmm. Neat, rigid, and terminally dull."
"Any changes you'd like to suggest, Captain?"
"Me? Nah." He took a sip and winced. "This is an assault on innocent coffee beans. Carry on, Vice-Captain. I'm just here to watch."
He dropped onto the edge of a crate, legs crossed, casual as ever. All eyes shifted to him.
But Elias stayed quiet, just watching Mara with a faint smile.
Mara picked up again. "Like I said. Stick to the plan. Priority is clearing nemeses without getting bogged down. Conserve strength."
"For what?" Briggs muttered. "So we can watch Ironveil skewer the Boss and take all the glory?"
"So we get home," Mara said, sharper than she meant.
Elias's smile faded. He looked at her, hard.
Camille stopped spinning her pen. "That's a new tone, Vice-Captain."
"I'm not changing tone. I'm clarifying priorities." Mara drew a breath.
She killed the hologram with a sharp flick.
The board went blank.
"Forget half of what I just told you."
The team leaders went rigid.
Elias tilted his head from his crate.
"The plan is solid. Follow it. But here's the only order that actually matters." Mara planted both palms on the board and met each pair of eyes in turn. "Everyone comes home. Doesn't matter what happens. Doesn't matter if Ironveil wins or gets wiped out. Doesn't matter if the rift is S, SS, or vomits a whole fucking nightmare army. Your job isn't cleanup, it isn't cover, it isn't looking pretty. Your job is to survive. Every single one of you. Every member of your teams. You bring them back here. Whole if possible. Broken, probably. Scared shitless, definitely. But alive. Retreat protocols aren't suggestions—they're orders. If it turns ugly, you don't play hero. You get out."
A soft huff—almost a laugh—escaped Camille.
"You… you sound just like him," Briggs muttered, glancing at Elias.
Elias said nothing. He just watched Mara, something unreadable on his face.
"I don't sound like anyone. I'm saying what needs saying. Jaeger Company has the worst rating in the Association. We're late, sloppy, and our captain is a chronic slacker."
She flicked a look at Elias. He gave her a small nod—keep going.
"But we also have the highest survival rate on critical ops in the entire 7th Division. Know why?"
Silence.
"Because we know when to run. We don't have honor to defend—just lives to protect. Ironveil and their shiny knights can get eaten heroically if that's their thing. We go home. We limp home, we cry, we fight, we show up late to debrief with lame excuses. That's how we win—by outliving the nightmare one more day."
Jax exhaled slowly. "Everyone comes home."
"Everyone," Mara said.
Camille stood, grinning. "Roger that, Vice-Captain. We'll make running away so efficient they'll pin a medal on us."
"They'll pin it on our coffins, and we won't care," Briggs grumbled. "So let's not give them the chance."
Torin smacked his fist into his palm. "I'm in."
Mara nodded. "You've got two hours to tweak prep around this new… directive. Then we move to positions."
The team leaders scattered.
Mara sagged against the board.
Elias walked over and offered her his terrible coffee.
"Want some? It's gross, but it's hot."
She took it, sipped, and nearly gagged. "It's vile."
"I warned you." He leaned beside her. "'Everyone comes home.' Solid line. Straight to the point. Hell, it's almost moving."
"It wasn't supposed to be moving. It was supposed to be necessary."
"I know. That's why it worked." He turned to her. "You see their eyes? You just gave them the one permission every hunter actually needs: permission to be scared. Permission to run. That's worth more than any heroic speech."
Mara stared into the dregs. "You still think we're all going to die?"
Elias thought for a second. "I think Borin's about to charge blind into something he doesn't understand…" He dropped his voice. "…and if I actually have to drag my ass out of the chair and do something, I'd like everyone around to witness it. Better shot at a raise. Or paid leave."
A smile tugged at Mara's mouth. "You're impossible."
"You've mentioned. And you also said 'everyone comes home.' Don't forget to count your lazy captain in that everyone, O'Connel."
She met his eyes.
"You're part of the company, Mercer. You come home too. Otherwise the paperwork for a dead captain is even worse than the paperwork for firing one."
He laughed out loud.
"Deal. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to find a corner for a pre-mission nap. Vital for tactical clarity."
He walked off, leaving Mara alone with the blank board.
She watched him go, took another sip of the awful coffee, then sat and rested her forehead on the cold table.
"Everyone comes home," she whispered. "Fuck. Why did I say that shit?"
She closed her eyes and smiled anyway.
"Idiot."