My heart stumbles.
Because there it is—the question I've been dreading. The one that ties Logan to whatever darkness is hunting me.
"But what if confronting him creates more problems?" Elias's brow furrows as he speaks, always the voice of reason. "He's still processing everything. Fracturing our team right now might only make it worse."
"Or it could force him to see that we can't keep skirting around issues like this," Ryker fires back, frustration rolling off him in waves. His fist connects with the table, making mugs rattle. "We can't let secrets fester. If Sloane is involved in something dangerous, we need to draw a line in the sand."
The accusation in his voice—subtle but there—makes my throat tight. These men have built something here. Something sacred. And I'm the match that might burn it all down.
"I don't want to turn this into a fight," Asa cautions, his usual calm facade cracking slightly. "But we can't sit idly by, either. Sloane deserves to feel safe here, and if Logan is hiding something that jeopardizes that, we have to know."
The unexpected defense catches me off guard. Asa barely speaks to me, yet here he is, arguing for my safety. The weight of that trust settles heavy in my chest.
"Then we need an emergency meeting," Caleb decides, resolution flickering across his features. "We need to lay everything out on the table. We need to confront Logan about his actions and figure out a plan."
My heart races faster with each word. Guilt gnaws at the edges of my conscience, amplifying the shame burning in my chest. This isn't just my life at stake anymore—it's all of them. The thought hits with an intensity that steals my breath.
What would this mean for Logan?
The man who pulled me from death's grip twice now. The man whose kiss still burns on my lips. The man hiding something dark enough to fracture his family.
"I—" The word sticks in my throat as their attention shifts to me. The weight of their scrutiny settles like fog, thick and suffocating. "Excuse me, I need a moment."
I don't wait for a response. Can't bear to see judgment or sympathy in their eyes. I just slip away into the dim confines of The Forge, letting the distant murmur of their voices fade behind me.
The halls feel longer than usual. Darker. Every shadow holds potential threats, and my journalist's instincts scream that I'm missing something vital. Something that ties all of this together.
I find an empty room—some kind of storage space, dusty and unused. The air feels stale, undisturbed. Like secrets.
My hands shake slightly as I pull out my laptop. The urgency that's been building since Logan walked out finally has purpose. Direction.
Time to stop running and start digging.
The thumb drive feels heavier than it should as I plug it in. Files blink onto the screen—endless strings of data I've been too afraid to fully decrypt. Too many missions. Too many codenames.
But one header catches my eye, bold against the black background:
ECHO-13 — OPERATION BLACKOUT
My breath catches. Something about those words feels significant. Important.
I dive in, wading through military jargon and tactical reports. Most of it reads like any other classified operation—coordinates, objectives, asset lists.
Until I see it.
Three words that change everything:
PRIMARY OPERATOR: GHOST ONE
The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
Because I know that name.
I've heard Logan's team mention it in whispers when they thought I wasn't listening. A call sign. A legend.
Ghost One.
Logan Bishop.
