"Every op, every mission—it costs pieces you don't get back." He looked away. "You've already given up too much. You deserve better than this."
"Don't," she said, her voice sharper. "None of this was your fault."
"You don't get it." He looked at her then, really looked. "You were taken from my house. My house, Rachel. You were under my protection, and they still got to you."
She held his gaze without flinching. "And I'm the one who left."
"I ran out to help Mrs. Chen," she said. "I saw her fall and I didn't think—I just ran. No weapon. No phone. I left the house wide open and ran straight into the open." Her voice stayed steady. "You saw the footage. You know I made that choice. If I had stayed inside, called for help instead of running out there myself, they wouldn't have gotten near me. You didn't fail."
His hands tightened in hers.
"I chose this job," she continued. "I'm the one who recorded those men. I made the decision to publish. I walk into war zones because I believe people deserve the truth. That makes me a target, Logan. You didn't force me to do any of that."
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, then his voice came, low and strained. "Look at what they did to you."
His fingers tightened slightly around hers. "I should've been there faster. Your job might be to walk into war zones to document everything, but my job is to protect people, to save people, to kill bad guys. I wasn't fast enough."
Her chest ached, but she didn't let go. She stayed close, their hands still joined.
"You saved me," she said quietly. "I'm standing here because of you. I'm breathing because you didn't stop. The bruises will fade. The cuts will heal. But you—" She lifted her free hand to rest against his chest, right over his heart. "—you are the reason I'm okay."
His eyes closed. She felt the shift in him as the fight started to ease. Her words had cut through the guilt he was carrying.
"You didn't fail me."
His shoulders dropped slightly. The tension cracked but didn't break completely. Then, slowly, the edge of his mouth tugged into a crooked smile, weary but real.
"I really hate your job, baby."
It caught her off guard, and she let out a quiet laugh. The sound slipped free before she could stop it. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight between them lifted.
"You're not the only one," she said, a small smile pulling at her mouth.
Logan drew her in, one arm slipping around her waist as he pulled her close and kissed her. Deep and sure, no hesitation.When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his mouth brushing just above hers.
"That sound," he murmured. "I love the way you laugh."
His lips traced her jaw before trailing down the curve of her neck. Her breath hitched, then escaped as a soft moan.
He chuckled against her skin, rough and low. "And I'm going to make sure you make that sound every day."
Then he kissed her again, harder this time. His mouth moved against hers with intensity born of fear and need and relief. All the grief, the guilt, the fury poured into it.
Rachel answered with her own need. She moaned into his mouth, her arms sliding around his shoulders as her fingers grazed through the short hair at his nape. She needed the weight of him, the heat, the solid pressure of his body.
Logan moved with her, guiding them back across the patio until the backs of his legs hit the outdoor couch. He sank down without letting go, pulling her into his lap.
She straddled him without hesitation, her knees bracketing his hips. Her hands slid slowly over his shoulders, down the broad line of his back, palms pressing into the muscle beneath his skin.
His fingers gripped her hips, anchoring himself. He kissed her again, slower this time. Less frantic, but no less intense. His mouth moved with purpose, his hands steady on her.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers. His breath came ragged between them. His chest rose hard beneath her hands.
He cupped her face gently, thumbs tracing slow lines along her cheekbones. His eyes never left hers.
"Rachel," he rasped, her name rough in his throat.
She held his gaze, her lips parted, her heart racing. "Say it," she whispered. "Whatever's got you looking like this."
