Chapter 61
Rachel walked barefoot down the narrow path behind Ghost's house, her hand tucked into his. The trail cut through wind-swept brush, the salt air growing heavier with each step. The distant sound of surf grew louder. Sand clung to her toes, still warm from the day's sun.
Ghost stayed close beside her, silent. His hand wrapped around hers, thumb tracing idle patterns on her skin. He hadn't said much when they left the house, just held the door open, laced his fingers through hers, and nodded toward the path.
Now, as the dunes fell away and the ocean stretched wide before them, the chaos of the last few weeks felt distant.
The sun was low over the horizon, painting the water in gold and rose. Waves rolled in slow, rhythmic pulses.
Rachel exhaled slowly.
It had been weeks since the exposé dropped.
Weeks since the warehouse. The headlines hadn't stopped.
Neither had the calls, the threats, or the sideways praise wrapped in political spin.
She'd expected the fallout. What she hadn't expected was how exposed it would leave her, how stripped bare she'd feel once the adrenaline faded and the spotlight refused to move on.
When they reached the shoreline, she let go of his hand just long enough to step into the wet sand, cool and firm beneath her feet. The tide slid in, touched her ankles, and pulled back again.
Logan stood just behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder, gave him a small, tired smile. "Walk with me?"
He didn't answer. Just stepped up beside her and matched her pace.
They moved in silence, their footprints trailing behind them in the sand. The hush of the surf was constant, soothing, repetitive.
Finally, Rachel spoke, her voice low. "I made a decision."
His fingers brushed against hers. A silent encouragement.
"Yeah?" he asked.
Rachel exhaled. The words stuck in her throat before she forced them free.
"I can't go back to war zones," she said quietly. "I won't."
There was no sharp breath, no objection. Logan simply watched her.
"I'm still a journalist," she continued, turning to face him fully. "That part of me doesn't change. I still want the truth. Still want to expose what's broken. But I have to do it differently. Smarter. Safer." Her voice wavered slightly. "For now... I'm taking a break."
Logan nodded once. His expression was hard to read in the golden light, but he stood steady. Then, gently, "I'm glad."
Rachel blinked. She hadn't expected that. "You are?"
His hand lifted, fingers brushing along her jaw, thumb ghosting across her cheek. The ocean wind tugged at her hair, but neither of them moved.
"I love how fearless you are," he said, “But I almost lost you. And I don't think I'd survive it if it happened again."
Something tightened behind her ribs. She reached for him, palm to his cheek, her fingers sliding into the hair at the base of his neck. The salt air clung to his skin.
"You won't lose me," she whispered, "I promise."
His breath slowed. When his eyes opened again, something inside him had eased.
"Good." Then he looked past her, toward the horizon, where the sky burned low over the water.
"My contract's up in six months." His voice was quiet, but the words settled between them with weight.
Rachel's heart skipped. Her thoughts moved too fast, deployments, ops, the constant edge of danger that never really left him. Never really left them.
He saw it cross her face before she could speak. His hands found her waist, steady, pulling her close. His warmth bled through the fabric between them.
"I'm finishing it out," he said. "Then I'm done."
She stared at him, breath catching. "Logan—"
He shook his head once. Firm. Not up for debate.
"I've been thinking about this for a while. I love my team. I love what we do. But I want more control. Over how I help people. Over who I protect."
Rachel studied him. She could feel the weight behind his words, not impulse, but intention.
"What are you saying?"
A rare smirk touched the corner of his mouth. Brief, but real.
"I'm starting my own company."
Her brow lifted.
"A private black ops firm. Off the books. No bureaucratic bullshit. No red tape. Just helping the people who actually need it."
Rachel's heart hammered. Logan, walking away from everything he'd known. Creating something new. Something his. The thought made her chest ache. "You're really doing this?"
Ghost nodded once. "I want something that lets me protect the people I care about. On my terms."
Rachel stopped walking. She turned to face the ocean, the waves rolling in steady and endless. Her arms wrapped around herself.
Logan, walking away from everything he'd known. Creating something new. Something his.
"Rachel." His voice came from behind her. "Baby, say something. Are you mad?"
She turned back to face him, a smile spreading across her face.
"Mad?" She shook her head. "Logan, no. I'm not mad.
This is your life. Your decision." She stepped closer to him.
"I'm proud of you. This is incredible. You're building something from the ground up, on your terms. It's exactly what you should be doing. "
His shoulders dropped slightly, tension releasing.
"I just..." She let out a breathless laugh. "I can't believe this is all happening. That you've been planning all of this."
"It's real," he said quietly.
Rachel nodded slowly, still processing. "You're really doing this."
Ghost shook his head yes, trying to read what was behind her eyes.
She looked at him, the soldier who'd walked through fire to find her, the man who never once asked her to play small or stay safe just to make him feel better. He saw her. All of her. And still stayed.
"Then I guess we're both starting something new," she said softly.
He stepped closer, his hands finding her waist. "I've already been laying the groundwork. Now I want you in on it. Every step."
Rachel waited, saying nothing.
"I bought a space," Ghost continued. "Old hangar on a private airstrip outside Oceanside. Secluded, secure. We're halfway through renovations, reinforced infrastructure, secure server systems, modular ops rooms."
She stared at him.
"I've been building connections. Making contacts. It's looking like I'll be able to get contracts—protection work, high-threat extractions, security overhauls for organizations that get targeted. Nothing's locked in yet, but the network is there. The foundation is solid."
"Logan..." She didn't know what to say.
His hands tightened on her waist. "This isn't just about me anymore, baby. I don't want any of this if I can't have you with me every step of the way."
Her breath caught.
"I know you want to take a break from the chaos and dangers of your job," he said. "How about helping me out instead? I want your input on everything. How we build this, how we staff it, how we keep it clean."
He paused, his thumb brushing along her hip.
"Besides, I could use a really great investigator to help ensure the people we take contracts with are who they say they are.
Background checks on potential clients, vetting contract jobs, making sure we're not walking into something dirty.
" His eyes held hers. "You're perfect for it.
Your skills, your instincts—I need that. I need you."
Rachel's pulse hammered. This wasn't about dragging her into something. It was about building it together. He was offering her a role that mattered, that used everything she was good at, in a way that didn't require her to walk into war zones.
Equal. Trusted. Chosen.
She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. "This is crazy."
Ghost's grin came quick. He leaned in, his nose brushing hers as his hands tightened at her waist. "A little," he murmured. "But so are we."
Rachel smirked. "Fair point."
"You gonna recruit your SEAL team?" she asked softly.
His face turned serious again. "I'll make offers as their contracts come up. They're my brothers. I'd take any of them in a heartbeat. But I won't push."
He paused, watching the horizon. "Torch's contract is up in a year. For now, he'll promote to take my place once I leave. He'll take over the team."
Rachel nodded.
"But when he's ready?" Ghost said quietly. "The door's open."
"This is real," she murmured.
Ghost's lips curved. "Damn right it is."
Rachel tilted her head. "You have a name for it?"
He blinked. "Haven't settled on one."
Her smirk widened. "Ghost Division."
He stilled. The name sat between them, sharp, solid. A shadow unit. Unseen. His legacy. A slow grin pulled at his mouth. "Yeah," he said. "Ghost Division."
She grinned back. "It fits."
Then he was pulling her closer. One hand stayed firm at her hip; the other slid up, cupping the side of her neck, his thumb brushing gently along her jaw. His forehead rested against hers.
"And you're in it, Parker. Whether you like it or not."
She was part of this. Part of him.
"I don't just want you in on the business, Rachel."
The look in his eyes wasn't tactical anymore. It was personal.
"I want you," he said. "With me. Always."
Her pulse hammered against her ribs. "Are you saying—?"
"Move in with me." The words came out calm, absolute. "Here. With me."
For a moment, she couldn't speak. Logan Hayes didn't ask for things. But this wasn't a request. It was a promise. A future. A home.
Rachel nodded, her eyes stinging. "Yes."
The breath he let out was deep, relieved, then he pulled her in and kissed her, slow, deep, final. Like she was his beginning and end, and everything in between.
She leaned into him, arms curling around his neck, fingers digging into his skin.
This was it. The next chapter. It wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be quiet. But it would be theirs.
As the sun dipped low behind the horizon, casting gold over the waves and shadows along the sand, Logan cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. "I love you."
Rachel's fingers curled into the front of his shirt. "I love you too, Logan."
Then she kissed him, fierce, desperate, completely his. Like she never wanted to let go.