The gate comes into view, tall and heavy, with LONE STAR SECURITY stenciled clean on the metal like a warning. A camera pivots. A light blinks once. The intercom crackles.
“Truck ID,” a voice says.
“Knox Sutton,” I answer.
A beat.
Then the gate starts to slide open with a low grind.
Sierra’s breath catches. Her gaze flicks from the gate to the lights to the stretch of darkness beyond. I watch her profile, theway she tries to swallow her nerves like that’s something you can do.
“You’re safe here,” I tell her, low.
She doesn’t look at me. “It doesn’t feel like safe. It feels like…”
“Like a fortress,” I finish.
Her fingers tighten on the strap. “Yeah.”
I don’t blame her. Most people don’t understand that safety and danger can look the same from the outside. A fortress is built because somebody expects war.
I drive through the gates and follow the gravel road deeper into the compound. Training grounds sit quiet in the distance, shadowed shapes of obstacles and targets. A line of barns stretches beyond that. The big main building is lit from inside, yellow windows glowing against the dark.
Sierra’s eyes track everything.
Her throat works. “Does everyone live here?”
“Some do,” I say. “Some stay in town. Some go where the assignments take them.”
“And Gray?”
“He’s here.”
That makes her go still.
I pull up near the main building and park where the lights cut the shadows back. The second the truck stops, I’m already moving. I’m out and around, scanning the lot, the building, the angles between.
I open her door and offer a hand down without thinking. She hesitates, then takes it. Her fingers are cool against mine.
She steps down and keeps her bag tight to her body like it’s the only thing that hasn’t changed tonight.
The front door opens before we reach it.
Gray steps out like he’s been waiting on the other side.
He’s in jeans and a dark shirt, no jacket, no show. But the way he stands is pure command. Stoic. Controlled. A man who keepshis heart behind armor because the world doesn’t care if you’re soft.
His gaze goes straight to Sierra.
“Gray,” I say. “This is Sierra.”
That’s all it takes. Gray’s already locked on.
“You hurt?” he asks.
Sierra’s chin lifts, stubborn even in exhaustion. “No.”
Gray nods once, like he respects the spine. Then his eyes cut to me.
