This is impact.
This is force.
This is the beginning of the end.
“Prepare the location,” Sentinel orders.
“Yes, sir.”
“And this time—”
His voice lowers.
Sharp.
Final.
“They don’t walk away together.”
45
Logan
Something’s off.
Not wrong.
Not yet.
But close.
I feel it before I can explain it—before there’s data, before there’s confirmation. It sits low in my chest, quiet and steady, the same instinct that’s kept me alive more times than I can count.
The kind that doesn’t shout.
The kind that waits.
I stand just outside the safehouse, scanning the tree line, the perimeter, the road that curves out of sight. Everything looks the same.
Too the same.
Behind me, I hear movement. Soft. Controlled.
Scout.
I don’t turn right away.
“Say it,” she says.
Of course she knows.
I let out a slow breath, eyes still tracking the horizon. “He didn’t escalate.”
A pause behind me.
“No,” she agrees. “He didn’t.”
That’s the problem.
