"Stay put my ass," she muttered to the empty room.
She pushed through the door and heat slammed into her like a physical wall. The sun was bright enough to make her squint. Diesel fumes mixed with dust hung thick in the air. A generator rumbled somewhere close, the vibration traveling up through her boots as she stepped off the barracks stairs and onto the packed dirt.
She moved quickly, heading in the direction the team had gone. Her camera bag bounced against her hip with each stride. She turned the corner too fast and collided with something solid.
The impact knocked her off balance. Her camera bag slammed against her hip. Her feet slipped in loose dirt. Then hands caught her waist, strong and sure, hot through her clothes.
Her palms landed against a broad chest. Hard muscle under fabric. She gasped.
She looked up.
Logan Hayes stared back at her.
He had to be six-four. His shoulders were broad enough to block out half the sky behind him. His arms, thick forearms lined with veins and tendons, arms built from years of hauling gear and teammates through hell, now held her steady without effort.
Rachel's mouth went dry.
His hair was dark, cropped close, with a single rebellious wave at the front. Stubble shadowed his jaw. A thin scar cut through his left eyebrow, pale against tanned skin.
Then there were his eyes. Steel-gray, intense, locked on her face with an focus that made her pulse jump. For half a second, something shifted in his expression, his pupils dilated slightly, his jaw tightened. Then it was gone, replaced by rigid control.
Rachel pulled back fast, her neck flushing hot.
He released her immediately, stepping back to create distance. The sudden absence of his hands left her waist feeling cold despite the heat.
"Where do you think you're going, Parker?" His voice stayed low and even. No irritation. Just controlled authority.
She brushed dust from her vest harder than necessary. "With you. I sure as hell am not 'staying put.' I'm not a dog, Hayes."
His gaze swept over her, measured and assessing. "You're a liability. A civilian in a combat zone. That means rules. My job is to keep you alive. Comfort isn't part of it." He didn't shift or raise his voice. He stood like nothing could move him.
And damn it, some part of her respected that.
She crossed her arms. "Your rules make it impossible to do my job."
He said nothing.
"I need freedom of movement. I need to be close enough to see what's happening. Instead I get locked down and shadowed and cut out." She kept her voice quiet but firm. "How am I supposed to tell the truth when you decide what I'm allowed to see?"
Ghost's jaw flexed. A muscle ticked beneath the skin, but his eyes stayed fixed on hers. "Those rules exist for a reason. This isn't about silencing you. It's about keeping you alive." He paused. "I don't get to choose who makes it out. If you go down on my watch, that lands on me."
His voice roughened slightly. "You think I have room to worry about a civilian when rounds are flying?"
Rachel went still. It wasn't the words. It was the weight behind them, the way he said it like he'd already lost people and couldn't afford to lose more.
She lifted her chin. "I'm not green. I'm not chasing adrenaline. I knew the risk when I stepped onto this base. I've been in warzones before."
His nostrils flared. His shoulders shifted, barely, but she caught it. "That's the problem. You think risk is something you get to choose. Out here, it's my call, not yours." He moved closer. His voice dropped lower, rougher. "If you fall, Parker, it's my name on the report. I carry that weight a lot longer than you ever will."
She held her ground despite her pulse jumping at how close he was standing. "Your rules make me useless."
His breath came out hard through his nose. "Then you might be in the wrong line of work."
Heat flared in her chest. She stepped forward without thinking. "I didn't come here to deliver a polished version of this war. I came to show it as it is. Calling it protection while shutting me out doesn't make this place safer. It only makes it easier to hide the truth."
She paused. "You don't get to decide what I see."
He didn’t move, but a brief shift crossed his expression, quick and sharp before vanishing. “You are not fragile,” he said quietly. “But you clearly are reckless. And that gets people killed.”
