"The next time I pull the trigger—it won't be just her in the crosshairs."
The cold bites through my henley, but I barely feel it. My mind races through tactical scenarios, threat assessments, defensive positions—the familiar dance of a soldier planning for war.
But this isn't a battlefield. This is Iron Hollow. My home. The sanctuary I built to keep everyone safe.
Everyone but myself.
A branch snaps under my boot, the sound sharp as a gunshot in the winter silence.
I pause, scanning the treeline with the instincts that kept me alive through three tours and one betrayal. Nothing moves. Even the birds have gone quiet, as if they sense the storm gathering in these mountains.
Granger's presence changes everything. He's not just some ghost from my past—he's a weapon aimed at the heart of everything I've rebuilt.
And now he knows about Sloane.
Sloane.
Her name hits like a physical blow. The memory of her mouth on mine, her fingers gripping my shirt, the way she looked at me like I was worth saving... it twists in my chest like shrapnel.
I quicken my pace, following the familiar path back toward The Forge. The compound emerges through the trees—stone and steel rising against the Montana sky like a fortress.
My fortress. Built from the ashes of Echo-13, forged in the fire of betrayal and redemption.
But fortresses can fall.
I've seen it happen before.
The main entrance sensors ping as I approach, a soft chirp that means Asa's systems are still online. Still watching.
The smell of pine and sweat hits me as I step inside—the scent of hard work and harder men trying to piece themselves back together.
My team looks up from their huddle around the tactical table. Caleb's usual grin is nowhere to be found. Knox's shoulders are rigid with tension. Ryker looks ready to put someone througha wall. Eli's calm facade cracks slightly when he sees me. And Asa... Asa just watches, those keen eyes missing nothing.
"Logan," Knox says, stepping forward. His voice carries the weight of unspoken concerns. "We just wrapped up."
"I know." The words feel like gravel in my throat. "What did I miss?"
Caleb crosses his arms, a gesture that makes him look more like the soldier he was than the joker he pretends to be. "We've been discussing how to handle the security breach. Asa's been running digital sweeps, but we need your input."
I nod, bracing for the flood. They don't disappoint.
"The motion sensors on the east ridge picked up multiple signatures," Knox reports, spreading a map across the table. "Too precise to be wildlife. Too methodical to be lost hikers."
"And our comms are still being jammed," Asa adds from his tech station. "Someone's using military-grade equipment to create dead zones in our coverage. This isn't amateur hour."
Ryker's massive frame shifts, radiating contained violence. "We should move to active defense protocols. Full perimeter sweeps, armed response teams?—"
"And risk escalating the situation?" Eli cuts in, ever the voice of reason. "We can't protect what we have here without total transparency, Logan," Eli says, earnestness blazing in his eyes. "We need you in this with us. No more secrets."
Their expectations crush me like a vise. These men—my brothers in all but blood—deserve the truth. But the truth is what got people killed in Echo-13. The truth is what put targets on our backs and forced us into shadows.
"I get it," I manage, swallowing hard. "But you need to understand—I can't put you all at risk."
"Not talking about it is what puts us at risk," Asa counters, his tone cool and steady. "Whatever you're keeping from us could have serious implications?—"
The words tear from my throat before I can stop them: "Thomas Granger is the one targeting Sloane."
The silence that follows is deafening. Five pairs of eyes lock onto me with laser focus, their expressions cycling through shock, disbelief, and something darker.
