He knelt down and gently examined the joint. Milo winced. Garrett’s jaw tightened.
“It’s dislocated,” he said. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
He stood up and looked around the gym. The crowd was still frozen, still silent. The cameras were still rolling.
“Someone call an ambulance,” Garrett said.
A woman near the door—Bryce’s assistant, her face pale—fumbled for her phone.
Bryce was still on the mat, still coughing, still trying to push himself up. “You’re finished,” he rasped. “You hear me? You’re finished. I’ll sue you. I’ll have you arrested. I’ll—”
Garrett turned and looked at him. Just looked.
Bryce shut up.
---
The ambulance arrived seven minutes later. Two paramedics—a man and a woman—rushed into the gym with a stretcher and a medical bag. They took one look at Milo’s shoulder and immediately began preparing a sling.
Garrett stood nearby, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.
“Sir, are you the father?” the female paramedic asked.
“Yes.”
“We’re going to take him to St. Mary’s. You can ride with us.”
Garrett nodded. He looked down at Milo, who was trying to be brave, trying not to cry.
“You did good, buddy,” Garrett said. “You were brave.”
Milo sniffled. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You stayed calm. You didn’t panic. That’s everything.”
The paramedics loaded Milo onto the stretcher. Garrett walked beside him as they wheeled him toward the door. The crowd parted for them, people stepping back as if Garrett were radioactive.
Near the door, Hank Morrow stepped forward.
“Sergeant Danner,” he said quietly.
Garrett stopped. He looked at the old man—really looked at him for the first time. Hank was in his late sixties, with a shaved head and a weathered face. He wore a simple black polo shirt with the Keller Combat Academy logo embroidered on the chest.
“I was at Fort Bragg in ‘09,” Hank said. “I was an instructor for the Q-course. I saw you speak at a briefing. You were a legend even then.”
Garrett’s expression didn’t change. “You’re mistaken.”
“I’m not,” Hank said. “I know the tattoos. I know the scars. I know the way you move.” He paused. “Your secret is safe with me. But you should know—there are others here who might recognize you. Bryce’s camera crew. The livestream. It’s already online.”
Garrett closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were tired—so tired.
“I know,” he said.
He turned and followed the stretcher out the door.
---