Page 18 of Rangers Mountain Rescue

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There’s a framed photo sitting on a small table beside the door.

Normally I wouldn’t notice something like that.

But the man in the photo—

My brain locks up.

Navy dress uniform.

SEAL Trident.

Tall.

Broad shoulders.

Familiar face.

Too familiar.

Aspen follows my gaze.

“That’s my husband,” she says softly.

The air leaves my lungs.

Joseph.

Tank.

Holy hell.

I stare at the picture again.

Memories slam into place.

Training.

Laughing.

Tank carrying two guys over his shoulders like it was nothing.

One of the strongest men I ever served with.

“He passed away,” Aspen says quietly.

“Seven years ago.”

I swallow.

I remember the call.

The mission.

The explosion.

Tank never made it out. My eyes are glued on the photo.

“You knew him?” she asks gently.

I nod slowly.

“Yeah.”

My voice comes out rough.

“I did.”

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