Page 80 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

Shit.

She looks tired. Same baggy clothes, same messy ponytail. There's a heaviness to her movements, and I wonder if she's sleeping. I wonder if she's okay.

I wonder if she still trusts me to keep her safe.

As I'm wallowing in disappointment with myself, her gaze drifts up to the camera. That's new. For the past few days, she's pretended the cameras don't exist at all.

I swear she's looking right at me. Like she knows I'm watching. Does that mean she's not feeling as hurt? Or is she regretting that I'm here?

Either way, her sensing I'm on duty gives me the same spark as when we both waved at the camera that first day, before everything got so complicated. And just like that, my focus shifts from duty to desire, captivated by her all over again.

This is killing me. We're dancing around like two magnets constantly pushing and pulling. And at some point, one of us will make a decision that can't be undone.

Either way, I need to explain why I reacted the way I did so she doesn't think I'm some cold, unfeeling asshole.

It tears me up that I hurt her.

I reach for my phone, and before I can think myself out of it, I text her.

Me:Are you free to talk?

Her phone screen lights up on the feed. She glances at it, then up at the camera. I see the hesitation in her body—the subtle stiffening of her spine, the way her thumbs pause over the screen and then curl away.

Finally, my phone vibrates with her answer.

Londyn:Yes.

Chapter 25

SEAN

I KNOCK THREE TIMES, THE same pattern I've used since the beginning. The sound bounces through the empty hallway, sending my heart straight into my throat as I anticipate what comes next.

The door unlocks and she appears in the narrow opening. Her eyes dart up to mine for a fraction of a second before dropping away.

"Hi," she says. "Come in."

The apartment feels different since I was last here a few days ago. Heavier. Like the air itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what happens.

Londyn moves to the couch and sits on the edge like she might need to make a quick escape. Her foot taps an uneven tempo against the floor—tap-tap,pause,tap-tap-tap. Her fingers find a loose thread on her sweats, pulling and twisting it into a tight coil.

"How's it going? Are you still feeling… sick?" I try to make my tone casual but it lands somewhere in the territory of awkward. I sit on the couch, leaving plenty of space between us.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Her voice is flat and missing the usual warmth.

I run my tongue over my front teeth, searching for words that won't make this worse. I need her to understand, but I don't want to sound like I'm making excuses. "So… We've been digging into those guys who were watching you," I say. "We've looked at security footage from a few shops. Mike's out trying to get more. Nothing so far. It's like they knew exactly where the blind spots were."

She nods, still focused on that loose thread. "Mike mentioned that."

Right. Because she's been talking to Mike, not me.

"I've emailed people I know. My contacts came up empty too." I clear my throat, pushing through the ice. "Could mean our guys aren't in any system or that I just need a better image. Some names."

Londyn is nodding mindlessly, her head bobbing up and down. She glances at me for a moment, and I'm struck again by how much I love her eyes. I love the way they hold secrets but still invite me closer, even in her distress.

She drops her gaze and starts picking at her fingernails.

I shift uncomfortably, moving my holster so it's not digging into my side. "So… There is some good news. We know Alan Miller is in South Africa. He might not be connected to our Navy Caps."

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