Page 220 of Silent Target

After everything, it’s enough.

The flight medic moves among us.

Cuts.

Bruises.

Possible fractures.

More blood than anyone wants to measure.

Rook sits near the cockpit while the medic wraps his shoulder. His face is pale beneath the dirt, but he keeps insisting the bullet missed everything important.

Sarah will disagree.

Falcon’s upper arm is bandaged tightly against his body. The bleeding has slowed, but every movement tightens the muscles around his eyes.

Mac sits alone near the rear of the helicopter.

His hands rest on his knees.

Dust fills the creases around his knuckles.

His eyes never leave the shrinking mountain.

I move across the cabin and sit beside him.

For several minutes, neither of us speaks.

“You saved us,” I finally say.

“I owed a debt.”

“You don’t erase guilt by keeping score.”

His head turns.

“I don’t know how else to do it.”

“You don’t erase it.”

The answer hurts him.

I see it in the way his fingers curl against his knees.

“You live differently,” I add. “Every day after.”

Mac stares at me.

“I spent years believing redemption had to happen in one impossible moment.”

“You survived the moment.”

“And Victor didn’t.”

“You tried to save him.”

“He chose to fall.”