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Not loosely.
Not passively.
Tracked.
“Eyes on us,” I murmur.
Scout doesn’t look at me.
“I know.”
Of course she does.
A beat.
“Close?” I ask.
“Yes.”
That tightens something in my chest.
Because close means—
Engagement range.
Scout
There.
Something shifts.
Not movement.
Not sound.
Pattern.
I stop.
Logan stops instantly with me.
No question.
No hesitation.
Trust.
“What?” he asks quietly.
I don’t answer right away.
I’m looking at the ground.
At the space between us and the structure ahead—an old building, half-collapsed, nothing remarkable at first glance.
Except—
“It’s too clean,” I say.
