Logan shook hands with each of them, absorbing names and faces and trying to match them to the roles Mara had described over months of conversations. These were the women who'd built something incredible. Who'd saved hundreds of lives. Who'd come for Mara when she'd needed them.
"Come on," Mara said, taking his hand. "I'll show you around."
She led him through the compound, explaining each building's purpose. The ops center with its banks of computers and satellite imagery displays. The training facility with combat mats and workout equipment. The medical wing with its examination rooms and recovery beds. The residential areas where women stayed while they rebuilt their lives.
They ended up on the dock watching the sun set over the bayou. Mara sat close to him, her shoulder pressed against his, their fingers intertwined.
"So that's my world," she said quietly. "That's what I do and who I do it with. What I couldn't tell you about for months because I was scared of what you'd think."
"I think it's incredible. I think you built something that matters. Something that saves lives and gives people hope." Logan looked at her. "I think I'm honored you trust me enough to show me."
"I should have shown you sooner. Should have trusted you sooner." Mara leaned her head against his shoulder. "I was so busy keeping everything compartmentalized that I almost lost you. Almost died without you ever knowing the real me."
"I know the real you. Have known her for months. This place, your team, the work you do, that's all part of it. But the real you is the woman who texts me good morning every day. Who sends me pictures of sunrises. Who laughs at my terrible jokes. Who came for me when I needed her." Logan kissed the top of her head. "The rest is just context."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Watching the water. Listening to the sounds of the bayou. Eventually, Mara spoke again.
"The team wants you to stay for dinner. Nadia's cooking, which means it'll actually be edible unlike when Winter tries. They want to get to know you. Ask you invasive questions. Make sure you're good enough for me."
"And after dinner?"
"After dinner, I was hoping you'd stay. I have my own cabin on the property. Small. Private. Just mine." Mara looked up at him. "I want you to stay, Logan. Not just tonight. I want us to figure out how to make this work. The distance and the deployments and the complications. I want to try."
"I want that too." Logan pulled her closer. "We'll figure it out. One day at a time. One mission at a time. Whatever it takes."
"Whatever it takes," Mara agreed.
Dinner was exactly as chaotic as Mara had warned. The whole team gathered around a long table in the main house kitchen. Nadia had made jambalaya and it was incredible. The conversation flowed easily, jumping from topic to topic. They asked Logan about Delta Force, about his team, about growing up in Montana. They told stories about operations and close calls and the women they'd helped.
Winter did threaten him, but only once. "You hurt her and I will find you. I don't care if you're Delta Force. I don't care if you're in a different state. I will find you and make you regret it."
"Understood," Logan said seriously.
"Good. Want more jambalaya?"
By the time dinner ended, Logan felt like he'd known these women for years instead of hours. They were family. Not by blood but by choice. By the work they'd done together and the risks they'd taken for each other. Mara had built something special here.
Later, in Mara's cabin with the lights low and the sounds of the bayou filtering through the windows, Logan pulled Mara close. The cabin was small like she'd said. Cozy. A bed with a handmade quilt. A desk by the window. Photographs on the wall of her team, of sunrises over the bayou, of moments that mattered.
"This is really you," Logan said, looking around. "Not the operator. Not the leader. Just you."
"Just me," Mara agreed. She stepped closer, her hands sliding up his chest. "I've wanted this. Wanted you here. In my space. In my life completely."
Logan cupped her face, careful of the fading bruise. "Are you sure you're ready for this? Kira said you're healing but?—"
"I'm ready." Mara kissed him, cutting off his concerns. "I'm tired of waiting. Tired of being careful. I almost lost this. Lost you. Lost us. I don't want to wait anymore."
Logan kissed her back, deeper this time, his hands gentle but sure. They moved to the bed slowly, taking their time, relearning each other after weeks apart and trauma that had changed them both.
The room was quiet except for their breathing and the faint creak of the old floorboards beneath their feet. Moonlight slipped through half-closed blinds, painting silver stripes across the sheets and their skin. No rush tonight—no ticking clock, no goodbye waiting in the morning. Just the two of them, fragile and fierce, stitching themselves back together one touch at a time.
Logan eased her down onto the mattress, following until he hovered above her, weight braced on his forearms so he could look at her—really look. His thumb brushed the faint scar along her jaw, a reminder of the night she'd refused to leave him behind. Mara turned her head to kiss his palm, then pulled him down until their mouths met again, slow and searching.
They shed the last of their clothes without hurry. His shirt. Her tank top. His jeans. Her leggings. Each piece fell away like shedding armor they no longer needed. When they were bare, Logan pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closed, breathing her in.
"I've missed this," he whispered. "Missed you."
Mara's fingers traced the newer scars across his ribs—marks from the cage, from survival. She kissed them one by one, soft and deliberate, as if she could heal them with her lips. "I'm here," she murmured against his skin. "Right here."
