Page 35 of Rescued By the Alpha SEAL

"No, you're not. Not yet." Her voice cracks like glass under pressure. "I've lost people, Logan."

I turn slowly, meeting her eyes directly. "So have I."

Our gazes lock—two ghosts recognizing each other across a battlefield.

I see it in her then: the same haunted vigilance that lives in me. The way her eyes drift to exits, to defensive positions, to anything that might become a weapon.

I exhale, the sound too loud in the quiet room.

Sloane has moved to the couch, curled into the corner of it like she's trying to disappear into the leather.

Her knees are drawn to her chest, a defensive posture I recognize from soldiers coming down from combat high. Herfingers trace the edge of a cushion, over and over, a mindless rhythm to ground herself.

"You don't have to tell me now," I say, moderating my tone. Softening the edges. "But you need to understand something."

"What?" The word comes out flat, guarded.

"If I don't know what's coming, I can't stop it. I can't shield the people who live here. I can't shieldyou."

She closes her eyes. "I don't need a shield, Logan."

"Yes, you do," I say, with more force than intended. "We all do. That's what this place is for."

That's what I'm for.

The unspoken truth hangs between us.

That's what I built The Forge to be. A shield. A fortress. A place where people don't have to be afraid of shadows.

Where they can lay down their weapons for a night, or a week, or maybe forever. Where I could make up for the ones I couldn't save before.

A long silence settles between us, dense with all the things neither of us will say.

Sloane doesn't answer.

She won't say more.

Not yet.

That night, I walk the perimeter alone.

The snow crunches beneath my boots, the only sound in the stillness. My breath fogs in the cold air, joining the mist that hovers over the forest floor.

I check the motion sensors hidden in the trees, reinforcing the dead zones in our security net. Program new camera angles without consulting Asa. Watch the treeline until my eyes blur with fatigue and frost.

I don't tell Caleb. Don't call Knox. Don't loop Eli in. Not even Asa, who'd spot the new camera configurations in hours, or Ryker, who'd sense the tension from a mile away.

You can't lead if you put your brothers in the line of fire.

That's the code I carved into my bones the night Blackout burned.

When I watched allies become enemies, and comrades become casualties. When I learned the hardest lesson a leader can learn: sometimes the mission doesn't matter as much as the men.

The snow falls harder as night deepens, erasing my tracks.

That's fine. I don't need to be seen. I just need to see what's coming.

Because Sloane is hiding something tied to the same ghosts that haunt me. The word "Blackout" says everything. It's not a coincidence—nothing ever is.