Page 20 of Rescued By the Alpha SEAL

Caleb Maddox emerges from the tactical gym, towel slung around his neck, dimpled grin already in place. He's my demolitions expert. He's the heart that keeps this place from drowning in shadows.

The guy who'll crack a joke while diffusing a bomb, then teach self-defense to local teens with the same boundless energy.

Some days I envy his ability to keep things light. Some nights I glimpse what that constant performance costs him. The fatigue that seeps through. The nightmares he can't outrun. Those rare moments when the facade cracks.

"Boss! You're back!" His gaze shifts to Sloane, curiosity sparking beneath his usual charm. "Who's the guest?"

I catch the subtle shift in his stance—the way he positions himself to appear harmless while actually placing himself between her and the nearest exit. Always watching. Always assessing. Just like I trained him.

Before I can answer, he’s already extending his hand to Sloane with that easy smile that has disarmed half the women in three counties. “Caleb Maddox,” he introduces himself.

Sloane shakes his hand briefly, her posture guarded but not hostile. "Sloane Carter."

And hearing the commotion, Elias Rios approaches. His movements are calm, measured. Always the peacemaker. Everyone calls him Eli—except when they're calling him Mom. He mothers the whole damn team, though he'd never admit it. Even now, I catch the way his eyes scan Sloane for signs of injury or distress—old habits from too many years of combat medicine.

"Nice to meet you, Sloane," Eli greets with a nod, his movements measured and calm like always. "What brings you to Iron Hollow?"

Before she can answer, I step in, asserting my control over the conversation. “Sloane's a contact from out of town, helping me on a personal project. It's temporary.”

Eli nods, his expression unreadable but intrigued. “Interesting. Hope it works out for both of you.”

"I was thinking of giving the grand tour to our potential client," Caleb continues, looking to me with a raised eyebrow. "Want me to show Sloane around while you handle the boss stuff, Logan?"

It's a good solution. Keeps her visible and occupied while I deal with whatever fallout her arrival has already triggered.

And Caleb, for all his flirtation and bad puns, is observant. He'll notice if she asks the wrong questions.

"Fine," I agree. "Main buildings only. Stay in sight of the cameras."

Sloane shoots me a look that could strip paint. "I don't need a handler."

"Think of it as a guide," Caleb interjects smoothly. "The coffee machine alone requires a PhD to operate."

Her mouth twitches—not quite a smile, but close.

She nods once, then follows Caleb toward the Main Hall, her gaze sweeping the room in that way of hers—cataloging, assessing, storing details for later examination.

As soon as they're out of earshot, Knox steps in.

"You bringing strays into town now?" His voice is low, laced with the quiet distrust that's kept him alive through worse situations than this.

"She's not a stray," I reply evenly.

"But sheishiding something," Knox mutters, eyes tracking Sloane's retreating form. "I can smell it on her."

I shut that down with a look.

One that reminds him who built this place. Who calls the shots.

Knox doesn't argue—but he doesn't drop it either. The tension remains in the set of his shoulders, the way his fingers rest a little too close to his sidearm.

Eli interjects, his voice, concerned.

"You trust her?"

"No," I admit. "But I know what she's not."

Eli nods, understanding what I'm not saying. Sloane's not military. Not an agent. Not someone sent to drag us back into the shadows we escaped.