Page 116 of Seal of Honor
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Seth watched Travis Quinn walk away, waiting until he heard the front gate clang firmly shut before exhaling in a rush. That was more conversation than he’d had with anyone other than his cat in months.
His eye darted to the card Quinn had left behind on the table. He reached across and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. The card was unsurprisingly minimalist—a stark white background, a logo of a hornet, and below that, a phone number.
A pang of something he had not felt in a long time struck him hard—anxiety mixed with fear mixed with... What was that? Hope?
He looked down at his beer, suddenly drained of all its appeal. He set it on the table and rubbed the card between his fingers.
The orange cat mewled softly at him, tilting its head as if in question. The animal had adopted him when he moved in, and they’d become an unlikely duo. Uncle Sam, named for the country Seth felt had abandoned him, was his only source of companionship nowadays.
“I’d have to leave you,” Seth murmured, scratching behind Sam’s ears. The cat butted his hand, purring softly.
The thought of leaving this place—the peace and quiet he had so painstakingly built around himself—was daunting. But even scarier was the prospect of staying here, stewing in his paranoia and nightmares.
He got to his feet slowly, looking around at his little slice of solitude. It wasn’t much, but it was safe. Safe and devoid of any demands or expectations.
But what kind of life was that? A life spent hiding from the world?
His gaze drifted to the rifle still propped up beside his chair. He picked it up, running a hand along its length as he fought the stirrings of anxiety. He missed the action, the adrenaline. The thrill of being a part of something, being useful, saving lives.
Could he still fight?
Was he even capable of being part of a team again?
He stood there for a long time, rifle in one hand, card in the other, his mind churning over the possibilities, the risks, the what-ifs. Every instinct screamed at him to burn the card and forget about HORNET, to return to his solitary existence full of regret and self-loathing. But there was another part of him that clung desperately to the idea of redemption, of reclaiming his life.
It was that small, barely audible voice that spurred him into action. He found his phone under a pile of papers on his dusty desk and dialed the number on the card. It rang only once before being answered.
“Quinn.” The voice was sharp, concise.
Seth cleared his throat, suddenly unsure. “It’s Harlan.”
A pause on the other end. “Did you make up your mind?”
“Yeah, I did,” Seth said, surprising himself with the determined note in his voice. His heart pounded in his chest as he spoke the words that would irrevocably change his life. “I’m in.”
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