THIRTY-ONE
Logan
“We’ll be based out of Wolfhart Security’s headquarters. Callum Wolfhart has agreed to provide us with backup if needed,” Sebastian informed everybody.
As we prepared for takeoff to Chicago, strapped into our seats on the aircraft, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of what Operation Tantalus might mean for us. It was a more substantial undertaking than Operation Icarus, aiming to bring us closer to dismantling the intricate web involving Gao, Romano, and Tyson. Everyone seemed ready, but the tension was palpable.
Glancing at Kaylan next to me, I noticed her fidgeting with her seatbelt, her demeanor one of nervous anticipation. This mission meant returning to a place she had fought hard to escape, confronting memories and faces she wished to forget. Yet, there was a fierce determination in her eyes.
Our flight to Chicago was smooth, and upon landing, the team from Wolfhart Security was ready to escort us to their facilities.
Expecting perhaps a warehouse setting—typical for many security operations including Blackthorn’s—I was surprised as we entered the basement of a towering skyscraper a few blocks away from Belfrost tower, Garret Tyson’s notorious stronghold.
The skyscraper was a striking example of modern architecture, its lobby adorned with sleek, pale furniture and white leather couches. We divided into groups as we approached the main elevators, with some heading straight to the upper floors. Floors 60 through 65 were managed by Wolfhart Security. It wasn’t until I noticed the ‘Wolfhart Tower’ sign in the lobby that I realized the entire building was under Wolfhart’s ownership.
“Wolfhart Tower?” Kabir muttered under his breath as we stepped into the elevator. The man guiding us, clad in a black leather jacket and cargo pants, flashed a knowing smirk.
“The Wolfhart brothers own it—Callum, Maddox, and Jeston. All ex-Navy SEALs,” he informed us casually.
I nodded in acknowledgment but tightened my grip on Kaylan when I caught the man’s lingering glance at her. Sebastian might trust the Wolfharts, but my instincts were screaming to keep Kaylan safe from any potential threat, including overly interested security personnel.
Once we reached the 64th floor, we were led to a sprawling conference room bordered by floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides. The view of Belfrost Tower through the glass stirred a familiar rage within me.
“Could we base the drone operations from here? It might be safer,” Kabir proposed, eyeing the expansive view.
Amelia responded with a skeptical look. “No, the new drones have a max operational range of just 200 yards. Any farther and I lose control over weaponry,” she explained.
Zarek then addressed another man in the room who had been watching us intently, his posture rigid and his brown hair pulled back into a bun, his beard unkempt as if fingers had just combed through it. “We’ll need a sniper stationed with our drone operator, Amelia. Can you arrange that, Callum?”
Callum gave a single nod before approaching us, his aura commanding yet vaguely disconcerting. “We’ll assign two snipers to your base at Creadon Tower to protect your drone operations,” he said, his voice smooth—almost charming.
I kept an eye on Kaylan, noticing the subtle shift in her posture from tense to slightly more relaxed. This mission was her first major engagement since the incident in Florida, and it was crucial she felt secure, not just physically but emotionally too.
Kaylan was quiet as we left the room, the gears clearly turning in her head. It wasn’t until we were almost at our door that she broke her silence, her voice tentative. “If it comes down to it tomorrow,” she paused, choosing her words, “I want to take the kill shot.”
Stopping in our tracks, I reached out to gently hold her face, ensuring she saw the sincerity in my eyes. “If that’s what you need, Chaos, I'll support you. But there’s no way you’ll be out of my sight.”
A faint smile touched her lips, a rare glimpse of her easing tension. “You know,” she wrapped her arms around me, “I never told you that I forgave you that night.”
Confusion flickered through me, but I listened as she continued, her voice soft but firm. “That night, in my room, you never technically asked for forgiveness. But I forgave you long before that. But you need to forgive yourself, Logan.”
Her words echoed the same sentiment Dr. Mendoza had tried to instill in me. Maybe I was keeping score, holding myself accountable for every perceived failure. It was a weight that constantly pressed down on me, a barrier to forgiving myself.
But I didn’t want to make another mistake that I couldn’t forgive myself for.
“I may not have forgiven myself, yet. But I do know that I will not forgive myself if I don’t tell you something before it’s too late,” I paused for a beat, “I love you, Kaylan. I have never been sure of any feeling I have encountered, but I am sure of this. This is the unfleeting, unchanging love of mine that I lay at your feet, baby. Being in love with you is how I know I can forgive myself one day.”
She gave me one of those smiles, the ones that say more than words ever could. I knew she loved me; I felt it. In moments where she gave herself to me, willingly. She didn’t need to say it; her actions spoke volumes every day. But when she did speak, the words crashed into me with the force of a revelation.
“I love you, too, Logan.”
Suddenly, my breath hitched, sharp and uneven. Here she was, this incredible woman, offering me her heart—a heart I had carelessly bruised and broken.
I don’t deserve her love.
I had spewed words that were unforgivab–
“Stop,” she commanded, her tone rising in frustration as if she were scolding a petulant child. “I know where your mind is going, and no . I’m not letting you taint this moment with your forgiveness bullshit. I love you. That’s it. There isn’t a reason in this world for you to think you don’t deserve this. You do, Logan. Snap out of it!”
Her words jolted me, a sharp crack in the walls I’d built around my guilt. A laugh, surprised and raw, bubbled up from my chest, mingling with tears that began to blur my vision.
I just simply nodded.