The total isolation of Sarge’s old cabin was what he’d needed—to get away from people. He shook his head. How so-called humans could do such unspeakable things to each other, he would never understand. As a cop, he’d seen crimes committed for money, sex, and drugs. In the Navy SEALs and as a mercenary, he’d seen people fight over power, territory, religion, and race. The atrocities he’d seen…

The ambush of his merc team last fall had been the breaking point. His jaw tightened to the level of pain before he breathed out. Stop, dumbass. The past was the past.

There weren’t any people out here. The cabin was off the grid. No electricity, no running water. Rather rundown, despite the work he’d put into it over the winter. When Mako’d brought him and the other boys here—over twenty years ago—the log cabin had been one room with a loft. That summer, they’d doubled the size and started the first of their lessons. Construction techniques, obedience, respect, survival, and first aid.

Seven years ago, Gabe and his three brothers had talked the sarge into leaving this area and moving near Rescue where he had an old war buddy. Together, they bought a huge, isolated chunk of land and built five cabins, despite the fact that only Mako had lived there permanently.

Jesus, Gabe’d visited as often as he could wrangle time off—they all had—but he hadn’t been there when Mako really needed him. When he’d died last fall.

God. The swamping guilt and grief hollowed a place around his heart. October. It’d been a dark, ugly month. First, the ambush down in South America. His men shouting, screaming, falling, dying. He hadn’t known them long, but they’d been his, and he’d failed them. He should never have trusted the intel provided…or the company.

After surgery to repair the damage from the bullets, he’d been flown back to the States to finish his recovery. He’d wakened after the long flight, smelling the astringent odors of a hospital, hearing people in a hallway. Feeling the searing pain in his shoulder and hip.

When he’d opened his eyes, Caz and Bull were there. They’d looked devastated.

And they’d told him about Mako’s death.

Gabe swallowed against the thickness in his throat. Why did he still feel as if he’d lost a part of himself? The sarge had died in a car accident months ago.

Car accident, my ass. He’d killed himself. Said so plainly in the note he’d left.

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