Page 69 of Bound By Thorns

Seeing the confused faces around me, I elaborated, “Look, we know they’ve been sending shipments to countries with nuclear capabilities. Crazon is involved, which makes me think they’re aiming to control the systems operating nuclear plants. I mean,” I shrugged again, trying to lighten the intensity, “it might as well be World War Three.”

“You’re on track, Healer,” Sebastian suddenly boomed from the threshold.

He wasn’t alone; Zarek followed close behind, a smirk playing on his lips as he took a seat next to Logan. “Looks like we’re all on the same page,” Zarek stated.

Sebastian didn’t waste a moment; he moved to the projector screen, tapping on his tablet to bring up the schematics of the Belfrost tower—a towering structure under the command of Garret Tyson and his crew, not to mention the prisoners they held. Were they all there? Was Martha there too?

We dove into our strategy, each of us acutely aware of the challenges the skyscraper posed. Sneaking in was off the table; the only entry was the main entrance. The basement, though tempting, was accessible only to those with existing clearance, and any attempt by Zane or Kabir to hack the system would likely trigger alerts from Crazon’s robust security.

That left us two less-than-ideal options: barge through the front, alerting everyone inside and sparking an immediate showdown, or aim for a silent entry from above, landing on the roof or the helipad. The latter, while risky, would at least give us the element of surprise and a tactical upper hand.

Rappelling from helicopters was something I had done back in my military days, except back then, I was just a military doctor. Now, my role was vastly different; it wasn’t just about patching people up anymore. Deep down, there was a part of me that burned with the desire to take down Garret Tyson myself. Logan often claimed he wanted the honor of dealing the final blow, but I knew when push came to shove, he’d let me pull the trigger.

“So, it’s decided then. We fly to Chicago in six days,” Sebastian announced, his voice cutting through the thick air of the strategy room.

A series of nods confirmed the agreement. I found myself questioning the timeline.

“Why six days?” I asked, curious about the precise timing.

“Well, they have a shipment coming through after weeks of silence, and that’s in eight days. There’s a high possibility that Garret’s crew might be thinned out the day before,” Zane explained, his eyes scanning the room for any dissent.

“What if Garret isn’t there?” Logan interjected.

“Our mission objective doesn’t change. We still gather intel. We need to know the extent of their plan,” Sebastian respondedfirmly, addressing everyone but lingering on Logan a moment longer.

Logan’s unease was unmistakable. He was fixated on not letting Garret slip through our fingers, a sentiment I shared wholeheartedly. But the reality was, understanding the full scope of Tyson, Gao, and Romano’s operations was critical. Without the knowledge, we were running the mission blind.

THIRTY

Logan

“I’m cleared?” The words tumbled out of my mouth, tinged with disbelief.

Dr. Mendoza just smiled, her expression gentle, as she handed me the sheet she had signed at the start of our session. “I’m not saying you’ve fully dealt with all your issues, Logan. You shouldn’t stop coming to see me. But yes, I think you’re fit for active combat again.”

I nodded, still processing her words. The paper in my hand felt impossibly light, a stark contrast to the weight it lifted from my shoulders. Just yesterday, I was resigned to the sidelines, haunted by the thought of being left behind while my team confronted Garret. Now, suddenly, I had a chance—a tangible, signed chance.

I exhaled deeply, the reality settling in. “You still think it’s a trauma bond, don’t you?” I asked, locking eyes with her.

She maintained her warm smile. “What I think doesn’t really matter, Logan. The way you speak about your feelings for Kaylan…it’s complicated, entangled with guilt and shared trauma, but it is still love. You care deeply for her safety, you’ve shown true remorse. However,” she paused, her tone shifting slightly, “your method of apologizing, as you described, was quite unconventional.”

I let out a chuckle, the irony not lost on me. “Me, on my knees?”

Dr. Mendoza narrowed her eyes, not quite amused. “No, Logan. It’s about you asking her not to forgive you.”

My attempt to interject faltered; no words came. Deep down, I knew that my plea for her not to forgive me revealed layers of unresolved guilt.

“Do you forgive yourself, Logan?” she probed further.

Do I?

I straightened up, seeking some semblance of confidence to bolster my response, but it was futile. Kaylan had forgiven me, repeatedly assured me of it.

But why didn’t the guilt go away?

It was evident—I hadn’t forgiven myself. My mind was caught in a relentless cycle, trying to balance scales that perhaps couldn’t be balanced. And I needed to save Kaylan. I needed to balance the score.

Maybe, just maybe, finishing Garret was the closure I needed, the act that could finally free me from my own chains. And with that thought, my resolve hardened—I would end this, whatever the cost.

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