Aiden's face, the serious one that rarely cracked, softened for a beat. Ryan stepped close and put a firm hand on Aiden's shoulder. The gesture was small but steady, like offering a bridge across a river.
"I believe in you, Aiden," Ryan said quietly.
Aiden's stern look broke into a small, honest smile. The kind of smile that says relief and recognition and pain all at once. For a second it felt like the fight had given them more than bruises. It had given them a kind of truth. Aiden had fought his whole life to be seen. Someone had believed him.
Ryan pulled his hand back, kept the warmth of the contact in his chest. He turned his head and looked at his crew. Faces, harsh under the lights, marked by sweat and cuts and the kind of tired that is earned.
"Now we fight," Ryan said. The words were simple. There was no bravado. There was only the practical truth that these men and women were standing with him and it was time to do the dangerous thing together. "Let's go."
