Chapter 32 Scout
Scout
Aleak.
The word doesn’t sit right.
Not because it’s unexpected.
Because it fits too well.
I stand at the table after Logan steps back, the room shifting around me—voices low, movement controlled, Boone already rerouting something on the screen—but everything feels… sharper now.
Focused.
Not just on the mission.
On us.
On me.
That part lands heavier than I expect.
Because now there’s a reason.
Not just instinct.
Not just fear.
Proof.
He’s watching.
Not directly.
But close enough.
And the only way that works—
My chest tightens slightly.
Is through me.
The thought comes fast.
Clean.
Logical.
Dangerous.
I step back from the table, needing just a fraction of space—not distance.
Just enough to think.
To recalibrate.
This is happening because of me.
The instinct follows immediately.
Pull back.
Reduce.
Limit exposure.
Protect the team.
Protect Logan.
It would be easy.
So easy.
Just… step away.
Speak less.
Engage less.
Disappear just enough that there’s nothing left to track.
My fingers curl slightly at my sides.
Control.
Contain.
Fix it.
“Don’t.”
Logan’s voice is quiet.
Close.
I didn’t even hear him move.
I close my eyes for half a second.
Of course he saw it.
“You don’t get to carry that by yourself,” he says.
I open my eyes.
Turn slightly toward him.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
No judgment.
No edge.
Just—
Truth.
I exhale slowly.
He’s right.
Again.
“It makes sense,” I say quietly. “If the leak is feeding behavioral patterns, then I’m the variable he’s tracking. I was the point of contact. The pressure point.”
I can hear it in my own voice.
Too controlled.
Too distant.
I’m already starting to shift.
Logan steps closer.
Not blocking.
Not forcing.
Just… present.
“You’re not the problem,” he says.
“That’s not accurate.”
“It is.”
“He targeted me for a reason.”
“Yes.”
A beat.
“Because you’re the hardest to break.”
That stops me.
Completely.
I look at him.
Really look.
“That’s not—”
“It is,” he repeats.
His voice is steady.
Certain.
“He didn’t go after the weakest point,” Logan continues. “He went after the strongest one.”
I feel that.
Somewhere deeper than logic.
Deeper than training.
“But he got through,” I say.
“He didn’t.”
A pause.
“You’re still standing.”
I swallow once.
The weight in my chest shifting—not gone, but… changing.
“That’s not the same thing,” I murmur.
“It is to me.”
That lands.
Again.
Because he’s not measuring outcome.
He’s measuring me.
And that—
That’s new.
“I almost pulled back,” I admit quietly.
“I know.”
“I felt it.”
“I know.”
“I still feel it.”
That one is softer.
Harder.
More honest than I expect.
Logan doesn’t move.
Doesn’t interrupt.
Doesn’t try to fix it.
He just stays.
“I don’t want him using that,” I continue. “Not on you. Not on the team.”
“He doesn’t get that control,” Logan says.
“He already has access.”
“Not to you.”
A beat.
“Not like that.”
I study him.
Trying to understand how he can be so sure.
“How do you know?” I ask.
His gaze doesn’t waver.
“Because you’re still choosing.”
The words settle into me.
Slow.
Steady.
“You felt it,” he continues. “And you didn’t disappear.”
I exhale.
A long, controlled breath.
“That doesn’t mean I won’t.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“That you didn’t this time.”
Simple.
But it shifts something.
Because he’s not asking for perfect.
He’s asking for present.
“I don’t want to be the reason this gets worse,” I say quietly.
“You’re the reason we see it,” he replies.
That reframes everything.
And I feel it.
The difference.
Not blame.
Clarity.
“If we shut you down,” he adds, “we lose the advantage.”
I nod slowly.
Understanding clicking into place.
“He expects me to reduce,” I say.
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t—”
“He adjusts.”
“And that’s when we move.”
Our eyes meet.
Aligned.
Again.
That word—together—settling back into place without either of us saying it.
A small breath leaves me.
Not tension.
Release.
“I can do that,” I say.
Not forced.
Not defensive.
Choice.
“I know you can.”
Of course he does.
I glance back toward the table, where Boone is already shifting the layout, Russ speaking quietly into comms.
The team is moving.
Adapting.
Because of this.
Because of me.
But not in the way I first thought.
Not as a liability.
As a signal.
I step forward again.
Back into it.
Not smaller.
Not quieter.
Present.
“He’s going to escalate,” I say, voice steady.
“Yes,” Logan replies.
“He’ll refine the pressure. Make it harder to detect.”
“Yes.”
I glance at him.
Then say it anyway.
“Stay close.”
It’s not a request.
Not really.
It’s… something else.
His answer is immediate.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I believe him.
Not because I need to.
Because he’s already proven it.
And as I turn back to the table, re-engaging, letting my voice hold at its natural level, not lowering, not adjusting—
I feel it again.
That pressure.
Faint.
Lingering.
Waiting.
Sentinel isn’t done.
He’s just getting more precise.
But this time—
I know what he’s aiming for.
And this time—
I won’t make it easy for him.