“One hero? Or the hundreds of thousands of innocent people who will fall victim to Maksimov if he isn’t taken out for good?” Hancock asked in a challenging tone, reminding his men of their role in the world. Reminding them of their purpose. Their only purpose. Their mission wasn’t to judge, to decide who was worthy or unworthy. Their only job was to rid the world of the predators who preyed on the innocent, which meant that sometimes they were the very ones preying on the innocent in order to achieve their goal.
The dissension in his ranks mirrored his own thoughts too closely—thoughts he’d firmly shoved away, not allowing himself to feel guilt. Or regret. He didn’t like it one goddamn bit, and he had to nip this in the bud before it got out of control and he had mutiny on his hands—something he’d never considered in a million years. His men were too steady. Too solid. Too focused. Just as he was. They followed his lead, never questioning.
Until now.
“I get it,” Cope muttered. “But I don’t have to like it.”
“We don’t have to like it,” Hancock said tightly. “But we do have to do our job. Even at the cost of one innocent. The good of the many—”
“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Cope said, impatiently cutting his leader off, again something Hancock’s men never dared to do. “The good of the many takes priority over the good of the one. Team motto. Whatever. But it gets pretty damn old and it’s why, after Maksimov, I’m done.”
“You know we have to go after A New Era,” Hancock said quietly, still holding Honor firmly against his chest.
Looks were exchanged between his team members. Some of acknowledgment. Some of resignation and acceptance. Some indecisive.
“Bad mojo,” Mojo said in a disgruntled voice that clearly reflected his stand. And it wasn’t with the mission or the “greater good.”
“And what then?” Conrad asked, speaking up for the first time. “I’m in. I’m with you. You know that. But when will it be time to stop fighting the good fight and allow others to fight in our stead? There’s always another asshole who needs taking out. After Maksimov, after A New Era, there will be another. There’s always another. When does it end?”
Frustration licked up Hancock’s spine. And the source of the conflict that had arisen amid his men was curled protectively in his arms. One small woman. A very small part of him wished she’d died with the others. Because then he wouldn’t be here, having chased over half the country after her. He wouldn’t be having this ridiculous conversation with his men, whose priorities had never wavered in all the time they’d worked under him. And yet one small woman had done considerable damage to their unity, and that pissed him off.
If she hadn’t survived, things would be a hell of a lot less complicated.
“That has to be your choice,” Hancock said honestly. “You can walk away at any time. No one’s making you stay. Do we need you? Hell, yeah. There’s no one I’d rather have at my back than the five of you. But everyone here would understand if you walked away at any time. After Maksimov, if you—any of you—are ready to hang it up, no one is going to have a single word to say other than good journey. And you’ll always have my gratitude for your service. If you ever have need of me, all it takes is a call. We will always have your back. Once one of us, always one of us. Your retiring doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”
When his men remained silent, Hancock gave them an impatient look they couldn’t misunderstand. Get the vehicle to cover and bed down for the night. They’d wasted enough time already. Time they didn’t have to spare.
Then he simply descended the makeshift steps into the shelter and traveled across the small enclosure to the far corner, where he placed Honor on one of the cots so he and his men would be between her and the entrance. It was the safest place in the small compound.