So will I.
32
Scout
Aleak.
The word doesn’t sit right.
Not because it’s unexpected.
Because it fits too well.
I stand at the table after Logan steps back, the room shifting around me—voices low, movement controlled, Boone already rerouting something on the screen—but everything feels… sharper now.
Focused.
Not just on the mission.
On us.
On me.
That part lands heavier than I expect.
Because now there’s a reason.
Not just instinct.
Not just fear.
Proof.
He’s watching.
Not directly.
But close enough.
And the only way that works—
My chest tightens slightly.
Is through me.
The thought comes fast.
Clean.
Logical.
Dangerous.
I step back from the table, needing just a fraction of space—not distance.
Just enough to think.
To recalibrate.
