At first glance, Hayes looked like someone nearing retirement. His hair had gone gray years ago, and the lines around his eyes suggested decades of squinting into sun, salt, and wind. His posture wasn’t stiff like the younger instructors. Instead, he stood with a calm stillness that made him seem almost detached from the room.
But anyone who had ever served alongside him knew better.
Daniel Hayes had spent twenty-two years as a Navy SEAL, and during that time he had quietly built a reputation for noticing things other people missed.
Back in the water, Mercer chuckled.
“I heard your lung capacity dropped after that explosion overseas,” he said, loud enough for the room to hear. “Seventy percent, right? That’s what the rumor says.”
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