Page 53 of Duty Devoted
The sex had been… Christ, I didn’t have words for what it had been. Mind-blowing. Earth-shattering. Any number of phrases that should be hyperbole but weren’t.
Every time—and there had beenseveraltimes—felt like drowning and being saved all at once. The way she’d whispered my name in the darkness. The way she’d trusted me completely, giving herself over without reservation.
But that was exactly why I needed to shut it down now.
I’d held her while she slept last night, my mind churning through all the ways this would go wrong. In the darkness, with her warm weight against my chest and her hair tickling my chin, I’d let myself imagine it for a moment. Taking her home. Introducing her to the team. Building something real.
Then I’d remembered the last woman I’d tried to date. Sarah. Nice girl, teacher at a local elementary school. We’d lasted exactly three dates before she’d seen what I really was. Some asshole at a bar had gotten aggressive, made a sudden move toward her, and I’d reacted on instinct. Had him on the floor with his arm twisted behind his back before conscious thoughtkicked in. The look on Sarah’s face—fear, directed at me—still haunted me.
That would be Lauren’s face eventually. When she realized the violence wasn’t something I did, it was something Iwas.
Lauren deserved so much better than damaged goods. Out here, with danger pressing in and survival on the line, I felt like my best self. Focused. Capable. The constant noise in my head quieted to manageable levels when I had clear objectives and immediate threats to manage.
Back in her world, though? In Chicago, with its crowds and unexpected noises and the thousand daily triggers that sent my nervous system into overdrive? I’d be a liability. A burden. Another broken soldier who couldn’t adjust to civilian life.
The guy who flinched every time a car backfired. Who struggled to enjoy Fourth of July fireworks without falling into deep thought about the sounds of firefights long distant, and yet always feeling like I never left them. Who still checked every room for exits and threats even at a fucking dinner party.
She’d held me while I slept, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. I’d felt her smile against my shoulder when she thought I was unconscious. Like she was imagining some kind of future where this—us—could work.
I couldn’t let her believe that lie. Making it clear from the beginning was the kindest way.
“We’ll head northeast. Not the most direct route, but will probably end up taking the least amount of time.” I consulted my mental map of the area. “Maybe ten kilometers to Puerto Esperanza if we push hard.”
“Then let’s push hard.”
I started forward without looking at her, knowing if I saw hurt in those green eyes, I might do something stupid like apologize. Or worse, explain. Tell her about the nightmares that would come back once we left this pressure cooker. About howI couldn’t handle grocery stores on bad days. About the times I’d scared women I’d tried to date when some innocent gesture triggered the wrong memory.
Better to just go.
The jungle fought us for every meter. What had been navigable paths were now obstacle courses of fallen trees and flood debris. We climbed over, crawled under, squeezed between. New streams cut through what had been solid ground, constantly forcing us to adjust our route.
My shirt was soaked with sweat within an hour, and I could hear Lauren breathing hard behind me. But she didn’t complain, didn’t ask to slow down. Just kept pushing forward with that determination I’d come to admire.
And hate myself for admiring.
“Water break,” I called, finding a relatively clear spot on a moss-covered boulder.
She sat beside me—not quite touching but close enough that I felt her warmth. We passed our cup with a purifying water tab between us in silence. Her lips touched where mine had been, and I had to look away.
“Listen,” she started, her voice soft. “About last night?—”
“We should keep moving.” I stood abruptly, draining the cup and putting it back in the bag. “The flooding will have pushed every snake and spider to higher ground. Need to watch where we step.”
Her jaw tightened, but she stood without argument. I saw the flash of hurt in her eyes before she turned away, and I hated myself a little more. But this was for her own good. Let her think I was an asshole now rather than discover the truth later.
We pushed on through the devastation. More than once, I had to stop and recalculate our position, trying to match the altered landscape to my mental map.
“Logan.” Lauren’s voice was carefully neutral. “Can we at least talk about what happens when we reach Puerto Esperanza?”
“We make contact with my team. Arrange extraction. Get you home safe.” I kept my tone professional, clinical.
The sound hit us before we saw it. A roar like constant thunder, growing louder with each step. When we finally pushed through the last wall of vegetation, we both stopped dead.
The river—if you could still call it that—had transformed into a monster. What had probably been a ten-meter-wide waterway was now a fifty-meter torrent of brown water carrying entire trees like toys. The current moved with terrifying speed, whirlpools forming and disappearing, debris surfacing only to be sucked back under. The air was thick with spray, turning the sunlight into tiny rainbows that seemed obscenely cheerful given the danger.
“Shit.” I assessed our options. The banks on both sides had been carved away, leaving raw earth cliffs. Downstream, the river disappeared around a bend, but I could hear the continuous crash of rapids. The river curved here, which meant we’d have to cross eventually or add another day to our journey. A day we didn’t have.
“There.” I pointed to a massive tree trunk that had lodged itself between two boulders, creating a natural bridge about three meters above the churning water. “We can cross there.”
