Page 121 of Rescued By the Alpha SEAL
"Is that what this is about?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "You're jealous he chose me over you?"
His hand stills on the camera. Just for a second. Then he smiles—the kind of smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"No, Miss Carter. This is about finishing what should have ended in Africa." He steps back, admiring his handiwork. "This is about reminding everyone what happens when you put sentiment above duty."
He moves to a steel table, unrolling what looks like blueprints. Building schematics, maybe. Or demolition plans. I can't see clearly from this angle, but I catch glimpses of red marks indicating strategic points.
My stomach turns as realization hits: He's not just setting a trap.
He's staging an execution.
"You're going to kill them," I whisper. "All of them."
"Only if they make the wrong choice." He doesn't look up from his work. "But Logan always did have a weakness for lost causes."
He continues methodically, laying out equipment with military precision. Each item has a purpose. A plan. Motion sensors. Pressure plates. Enough ordinance to level a building.
Or bury one.
A comm unit crackles to life on his belt. He keys the mic, voice shifting to something colder. More official.
"This is a message for Ghost One and his team," he says, eyes fixed on mine. "I have something that belongs to you."
He adjusts the camera angle, making sure I'm centered in frame. Making sure they can see every bruise, every zip tie, every silent scream behind my eyes.
"Are you watching, Bishop?" Granger continues. "I hope so. Because what happens next depends entirely on you."
Static hisses. I imagine Logan's face as he sees this. The way his jaw will clench. How his hands will curl into fists.
I'm sorry.I'm so sorry.
"Here are the terms," Granger says. "Come to the firewatch tower. Alone. Your team stays clear, your weapons stay holstered, and maybe she lives long enough to see tomorrow."
He pauses, letting the threat sink in.
"But if I see one sign of backup..." His smile turns cruel. "Well. Let's just say there are worse things than dying."
The camera light blinks red. A pulse like a heartbeat.
Or a countdown.
"You have one hour," Granger says, voice flat and final. "Choose wisely."
39
LOGAN
The video feed cuts to static, Granger's final words hanging in the air like smoke:
"You have one hour. Choose wisely."
My hands curl into fists at my sides, knuckles white with tension. The control room feels too small suddenly, the walls pressing in as if they might collapse under the weight of what we just witnessed.
Beside me, Knox's jaw is locked tight enough to crack teeth. Asa's fingers fly over the keyboard, face lit by the harsh glow of multiple monitors.
We'd been searching for Sloane since dawn—combing the woods, checking safehouses, running trace protocols on every frequency we could access.
Now this.
