Chapter 53: The Return of the Brotherhood

I walked across the quad toward the Section Chief’s office, the chalk dust puffing off my shoulders with every step. I didn't head for the showers. I wanted them to see me.

As I approached the main building, I saw a group of men standing by the entrance. My heart gave a sharp, familiar tug.

Thorne, Jax, and Stitch.

They were older now. Thorne was a Command Sergeant Major, his face a roadmap of every mission we’d survived. Jax was a Captain in the Reserves, and Stitch—still grinning, though he’d filled out considerably—was a Master Sergeant. They had been called back for a specialized training seminar, but I knew they were really here for the anniversary.

Thorne looked at my chalk-covered uniform and then at the white patches on my face. He didn't laugh. He stepped forward and handed me a clean towel, just as he had handed me a canteen in the Martyrs.

"New kids think they're funny, Ghost?" Thorne asked, his voice still like grinding gravel.

"They think they’re testing a legend," I said, wiping my face.

"Want us to show them what happens when you mess with the heart of the 3rd Platoon?" Stitch asked, cracking his knuckles. "I haven't led a 'corrective' PT session in at least six hours."

"Let them play," I said, looking up as Charles stepped out of the building. He saw the chalk, saw the team, and a rare, genuine smile touched his lips. "It makes the lesson stick better when they realize who’s actually holding the whip."