Page 41 of Rescued By the Alpha SEAL

Her coffee sits untouched, gone cold hours ago. She hasn't moved in nearly forty minutes—just writes, crosses out, writes again.

The kind of focused intensity that speaks of obsession. Or fear.

She doesn't know what she's dragged here. Or maybe she does.

Caleb's laugh cuts through my thoughts—sharp, bright, too loud.

He's running drills with the relatively newer recruits, showing them how to fall without breaking.

Knox lurks in the corner like a silent reproach, while Eli keeps throwing me those careful glances that say he sees right through me.

But I can't focus on any of them.

My mind maps The Forge's perimeter for the hundredth time today: three main buildings, twelve entry points, twenty-eight security cameras.

The motion sensors Asa installed last month. The backup generators. The emergency protocols we've never had to use.

Until now, maybe.

I let her stay. Let her in. Told myself it was calculated risk assessment.

But that's bullshit, and I know it. The moment I saw that letter—that single initial that turned her eyes to glass—something inside me shifted.

Not strategy.

Not tactics.

Emotion.

And that's how people die.

My jaw clenches as I scan the hall again. Five years of building this place. Five years of giving broken soldiers somewhere to heal. Five years of protecting Iron Hollow from the shadows most people pretend don't exist.

All of it balanced on the edge of a knife because I couldn't walk away from one woman with secrets in her eyes.

If G is watching, then The Forge isn't just compromised—it's a goddamn target.

The realization sits like lead in my chest. Every man here trusts me with their life. Their safety. Their redemption. They followedme out of that desert hellhole believing I'd never lead them into another trap.

Now I might have done exactly that.

Sloane's pen stills. She looks up, straight at me, like she can feel the weight of my stare.

For a heartbeat, our eyes lock. There's defiance there. Steel. But beneath it—raw, aching vulnerability that mirrors the war in my own chest.

Protecting her means risking them. Risking Iron Hollow.

But letting her go? Turning my back when someone's hunting her?

My hands curl into fists at my sides. The muscles in my shoulders knot with phantom tension. Because I've been here before. Stood in this exact moment of choice.

That's Echo-13 all over again. That's leaving someone behind.

Seven years ago.

Sand stings my eyes as I sprint through the chaos, rifle clutched tight, the weight of it grounding me amidst the madness.

Blood pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the sound of my own ragged breathing, the sharp, coppery tang of fear mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder.