Page 48 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

It's only been a few hours since Moe left, but it feels like days, maybe even weeks.

His absence is palpable in the room—something heavy and sharp that wraps around my ribs and refuses to let go.

The air feels thicker without him, as if the oxygen has changed.

It's like I'm breathing in the aftermath of what I've done.

I’ve been lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds the answers I need.

The plaster is old and cracked in places, and I find myself tracing invisible patterns in it with my eyes—lines and shapes that make no sense, desperately searching for some code, some message, some hint of what I’m supposed to do next.

But the silence is unbearable. Every second stretches out too long, and every thought in my head screams louder than the last. I can’t sit still any longer.

So I get up. Because if I stay in this bed, in this room, in this moment for even one second more—I’m going to lose it.

The B it feels haunted—haunted not by ghosts, but by ugly truths that are hard to face.

I open one cabinet, then another, hoping to find something to ground me—a book, a bottle of whiskey, a distraction. But there’s nothing. Just old mugs, dusty plates, and silence.

So I pace back and forth, fidgeting, scanning the room as if the answers might be hiding in plain sight. And that’s when I notice it.

Moe’s duffel bag. It’s half-unzipped, like he didn’t bother closing it all the way in his rush this morning. Tucked into the side, nearly invisible, is a plain envelope.

At first, I think it’s nothing—just receipts or maybe his flight information, boring work stuff. But something about it pulls at me, so I tug it free.

My stomach drops .

The envelope is thinner than I remember. I slide out the paper inside, and recognition hits me like a jolt.

The one he had me sign.

The document I didn’t read.

I unfold it with hands that feel foreign to me. At first, my eyes skim the text, hoping that if I don’t read it too closely, it won’t matter. But I can’t help myself.

I remember how quickly he had me sign it and how I didn't have a second thought about it.

But now? All I hear is that voice in my head, urging me to read it.

Every word.

This document legally binds the signee to the non-disclosure of any verbal, written, or observed knowledge pertaining to classified military operations under the protection of Seaborn and any Seaborn-affiliated factions worldwide.

Any breach of this agreement is subject to prosecution, exile, or targeted detainment at the discretion of the Seaborn Board of Commanders.

My breath catches as I read the words again, but they make no more sense the second time.

Military operations.

Targeted detainment.

Affiliated factions.

What the hell did I sign? How did I get here? How did I end up in a world where this language applies to me?

I sit down hard on the edge of the couch, my grip squeezing the crumpling paper. The ink smears beneath my thumb, but I don’t even care .

Before I know it, I have my phone in hand. My fingers shake so badly that I can barely scroll through my contacts. Jack? No. My mom? Definitely not.

I stop at the only name that makes sense—the only person who might have answers without making me feel like I’ve lost my mind.

Laura.

She answers on the third ring, her voice bright and chipper, as if nothing in the world is wrong.

“Hey, Ray! How’s Austra—”

“Laura.” My voice trembles as I say her name. “I need you to be honest with me. No jokes. No sarcasm. Please. What the hell is Seaborn?”

There’s a pause. Not just a brief silence, but a long, weighted pause that makes my skin crawl.

“Where did you hear that?” The sunshine has vanished from her voice, replaced by something sharp and cautious.

“Moe had me sign something.” My voice is small, but I push the words out. “I thought it was a non-disclosure agreement. But it wasn’t. It talks about military factions, secrecy, and threats of court-martial. I didn’t know what I was signing.”

“Shit.”

I can hear her moving now. There are footsteps, maybe pacing or perhaps she’s running a hand through her hair like she does when she’s stressed.

“Raylen… how much did he tell you?”

“Nothing,” I whisper. “That’s the problem. I thought it was just a business trip. But now I’m reading words like ‘classified operations’ and ‘targeted detainment’ and I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

“Raylen… I’m not supposed to say anything. But—you already know too much.”

“Know what, Laura? ”

“Seaborn is a military faction. Not the kind you read about. Not the kind you see in movies. It’s bigger, older, and darker. Built for one purpose: to stop the world from burning itself to the ground.”

Her words hit me like a gut punch.

“They're military?” I choke out.

“Moe’s military,” she says, then quieter, as if she hates saying it. “But it’s not what you think. Not the Army. Not the Navy. Not the CIA. Seaborn is different. Deeper. They work in the shadows. And right now? He’s not on a business trip. He’s on a mission. A real mission. And it’s dangerous.”

I sink into the chair, my legs weak. The room seems to tilt.

“Moe’s a soldier,” I whisper, hoping that if I say it softly enough, it won’t change everything.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because he can’t. Civilians aren’t supposed to know. Ever. If that line gets crossed, it’s life or death. You knowing this much? It changes everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I have to call Caspian,” she says, her voice strained.

“No. Please don’t. Laura, I’m begging you.”

“I’m sorry, Ray. I have to.”

And then she hangs up.

The phone slides from my hand, clattering to the floor. I don’t even look at it.

The world’s spinning too fast now. Moe’s gone. On a mission I didn’t even know existed. Laura’s part of it. Caspian’s the one pulling the strings. And me?

I’m the idiot who signed her name without reading. Who didn’t realize she was stepping into a war.