Page 50 of Rescued By the Alpha SEAL

"I'm not hiding anything!" Logan's voice cracks like a whip. "I didn't know how deep this ran! I'm trying to protect you all!"

"The hell you are." Ryker's words cut deep. "We have each other's backs. You can't pull the 'lone wolf' act anymore, Logan. We need to work together. How can you expect us to trust you if you're not being honest?"

Logan's expression hardens to granite. "You want honesty? Fine. We need a plan right now. I'm taking this seriously. I'll handle the situation with Sloane, and I'll ensure we're prepared for whatever comes next."

He turns away, heading for the door. "I'll handle it."

Stunned silence follows him. Caleb's frustration radiates like heat. "How can he think he can sort this out alone?"

I stand there, heart sinking, as the others begin to murmur amongst themselves.

The outsider.

The catalyst.

The woman who brought danger to their door.

But beneath the guilt, determination burns steady and bright. My father's death demands answers. Max's blood cries out for justice. And even if it means remaining on the fringes of this world forged from loyalty and survival, I will find the truth.

I have to.

I'm sorry, Dad. But sometimes the truth hurts more than silence.

I follow Logan out into the morning light, leaving the weight of accusation behind. He stands at the edge of the training yard, shoulders rigid, hands clenched at his sides.

"You don't have to shoulder this alone," I say quietly.

He doesn't turn. "Yes, I do."

"Why?"

"Because last time I let someone in—" He breaks off, jaw tight. "Last time I trusted my gut over orders, people died."

I step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. "And what about now? What does your gut tell you about me?"

He finally turns, and the raw honesty in his eyes nearly stops my heart. "That you're worth the risk."

16

LOGAN

"I'll handle it."

The words slip out before I can stop them, heavy with a familiar weight.

The same weight I've carried since Echo-13, since watching brothers fall in desert sand. Since choosing to protect became both salvation and curse.

I turn away from their faces—from Caleb's hurt, Knox's fury, Ryker's skepticism, Asa's silent assessment, Eli's concern.

My family.

The men who followed me into hell and somehow made it back.

The ones I swore to shield, even from myself.

My boots hit gravel as I push through the door, letting February air slice through my henley.

I don't go back for a jacket. The cold feels right—a fitting penance for the warmth still lingering from Sloane's touch, fromthe way she looked at me this morning like I might be worth saving.