The lab report did not free Yoro in Oliver’s mind immediately.
That made Oliver ashamed later, but it was true.
Grief does not surrender just because a document enters the room. For three weeks, Oliver had built a mental courtroom where Yoro was guilty, Raven Six was innocent, and Miles died because one young fuel technician made a choice. Now Reed had dropped new evidence into that courtroom, and Oliver’s mind fought it like an enemy.
The contaminant report.
The forged directive.
The route change.
The black case.
Miles protecting evidence.
Each piece made sense.
Together, they asked him to betray the only story that had held him upright since his brother died.
Oliver stood from the table and walked to the narrow window. Outside, the base looked ordinary: parked vehicles, a wet road, a soldier carrying a toolbox, clouds breaking over the flight line. How dare the world look ordinary when the dead were being rearranged inside his memory?
Reed let him stand there.
Finally Oliver said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were under observation.”
Oliver turned. “You thought I was involved?”
“I thought you were vulnerable.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the answer.”
Oliver’s face hardened.
Reed continued. “Your brother died. Your helicopter was grounded. A young soldier’s name appeared in the file. If the people behind this needed someone to pressure Yoro, you were the obvious choice.”
Oliver laughed without humor. “So you watched me?”
“Yes.”
“And when I attacked him?”
“I stopped you.”
“After I did it.”
Reed did not look away.
“Yes.”
The honesty made Oliver hate him more because there was no softness to push against.
“You let him sit there,” Oliver said. “You let him be hated.”
“I kept him alive.”
Oliver’s mouth tightened.
Those were not the same thing.
Both men knew it.
Reed opened another file and placed a transcript on the table.
“What is that?”
“Recovered convoy audio.”
Oliver did not move.
Reed said, “This includes your brother.”
The room changed.
Oliver looked at the page as if it might burn him.
“Do you want to hear it?”
No.
Yes.
Oliver did not know which answer came from which part of him.
Reed waited.
Finally Oliver sat down.
“Play it.”
The audio was rough, full of static, wind, distant gunfire, and men shouting over broken comms. For several seconds, Oliver could not separate anything. Then he heard Miles.
His younger brother’s voice.
Strained. Urgent. Alive in the worst possible way.
“Raven was poisoned. Tell Ollie—”
The recording cracked.
Then Miles again.
“Don’t let them blame the kid.”
Oliver’s face broke.
For the first time since the funeral, he covered his mouth and made no effort to look strong.
Reed stopped the audio.
Oliver stared at the table.
Miles had known.
Miles had died knowing.
And Oliver had spent three weeks doing exactly what his brother begged him not to do.