Page 34 of Axel Martin (Seals on Fraiser Mountain #4)

Lark

H e didn’t say it right away.

But I knew. The moment Axel walked back into the cabin, something in him had shifted. The tension in his shoulders wasn’t the usual “SEAL-on-alert” tightness. This was different. He was already gone, and just hadn’t told me yet.

I stood by the fireplace, my hands wrapped around a mug I hadn’t touched in fifteen minutes.

“Where is she?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away. He moved toward me, slow, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the room. Me.

“Jordan,” he said finally. “Outside Amman. She met up with someone I used to know. Greg Bishop.”

I stared at him. “You know him.”

“We crossed paths. He’s one of the good ones… in a very gray, morally ambiguous, probably-broke-every-law kind of way.”

“And Marley’s with him?”

“She was. But the file she found? It’s dangerous. She’s in over her head. She knew it. That’s why she sent the pin.”

I nodded slowly. My throat was tight. “You’re going after her.”

He stepped closer, and I hated the way he hesitated—like he wasn’t sure if I’d let him touch me.

“I have to,” he said quietly. “I can’t ignore this. She’s your twin sister. Sure she has long black hair. And you have beautiful red hair. But she’s your blood. I won’t leave her there. Fraiser is going with me. We’ll get her out and come straight home.”

“If it’s this dangerous, you shouldn’t go.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, surprised.

I set the mug down on the mantel. “I don’t want you to go. But I’d never ask you to stay. Not when someone we care about is in trouble.”

His jaw flexed. “I was prepared to walk away from everything for a while. To just… breathe. Stay here. With you.”

My heart twisted. “That’s the thing about people like us. We don’t really stay still, do we?”

He exhaled hard and reached out, wrapping his arms around me like he could memorize the shape of me in seconds. “You changed everything, Lark. And I don’t say that lightly.”

I pressed my cheek to his chest. “I meant what I said. I want you with me.”

He kissed the top of my head. “When I get back—”

I looked up at him. “ When. Not if. ”

He gave a soft, sad smile. “You’re stubborn.”

“You like that about me.”

“I do.”

A silence settled between us, thick and brimming.

Then I said it—the thing I’d been holding in my chest like a live wire since the hospital.

“I love you.”

His breath caught. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Axel Martin, even if you leave muddy boots everywhere. Even if you disappear for weeks. Even if you steal all my hoodies.”

He pulled me closer. “You’re gonna marry me one day, Lark Bennett. And it’s you who steals the hoodies.”

“Only if you bring me back a souvenir.”

He laughed, but it sounded a little broken. “What do you want? A rock?”

“No. I want my sister. Alive.”

He rested his forehead against mine. “I’ll do everything I can.”

“I know.”

And we stood there in the silence, the fire crackling behind us, the scent of pine and cold mountain air wrapping around us like a promise.