Page 65 of Rescued By the Alpha SEAL

As we walk back to the cabin, snow beginning to fall in soft flakes around us, I feel it—the subtle shift in the air between us. The way possibilities open like doors in the dark.

But with each step, Granger's warning echoes in my head:

"The next time I pull the trigger?—"

I glance at Sloane, watching snowflakes catch in her hair.

"It won't be just her in the crosshairs."

The threat settles like ice in my veins, even as warmth blooms in my chest.

Because now?

Now I have something to lose.

21

SLOANE

The silence between Logan and me stretches like a wire as we walk back to his cabin, each step crunching in fresh snow.

My mind churns with the weight of everything that's happened—the team's acceptance, their willingness to help, the way they looked at me when I finally told them the truth.

Not with judgment or fear, but with understanding. With resolve.

So why does my chest feel so tight?

Logan walks beside me, quiet but alert. His shoulders are set with that familiar tension, eyes scanning the treeline like he expects shadows to materialize.

Always the protector. Always watching.

But I've started to see beneath that armor. The way guilt lives in the corners of his mouth. The way trauma hides behind careful control.

We reach his cabin, and he unlocks the door with efficient movements—check the frame, sweep the interior, secure the exit.

I've memorized his routine now. The way he moves through space like he's mapping escape routes.

Inside, the fire's dying. Logan kneels to stoke it while I hover near the couch, unable to settle. My fingers drum against my thigh—a nervous tell I thought I'd trained away years ago.

"You're quiet," he says without looking up.

I almost laugh. "Says the man who speaks in tactical signals."

That earns me a ghost of a smile, but he doesn't push. Just adds another log, letting sparks dance up the chimney. The flames cast his profile in sharp relief—all angles and shadows.

My chest aches as I watch him. This man who pulled me from the snow. Who's seen me at my worst and still chose to stand beside me. Who carries more weight than anyone should bear alone.

"I keep thinking..." The words slip out before I can stop them. "What if I made the wrong choice? Bringing them into this?"

Logan stills, his hand frozen mid-motion. When he turns to face me, his eyes are dark with something I can't name.

"They chose this," he says quietly. "Same as I did."

"But what if—" My voice catches. I swallow hard. "What if someone else gets hurt because of what I know? Because of what I'm chasing?"

He stands slowly, movements careful like he's trying not to spook me. "You mean like Max?"

The name hits like a physical blow. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold in the surge of guilt and grief. "He trusted me with the truth. And it got him killed."