Page 82 of Rescued By the Alpha SEAL
"I started collecting these after my sister disappeared," Dana explains, voice steady despite the grief lurking beneath. "Most of them trace back to black sites and ghost units. Stuff that was never meant to be public."
I scan the contents, heart pounding. This is a journalist's treasure trove—evidence of covert operations, military cover-ups, silenced voices. The kind of material people kill for. The kind I've risked my life to find.
"You think they're tied to Echo-13?" I ask, fingers hovering over a redacted file.
"I think your sniper isn't working alone."
My breath catches in my throat.
Logan steps into the doorway, silent as a shadow, watching both of us—quiet, unreadable. How long he's been there, I'm not sure. Long enough.
"You need to see this," Dana tells him, passing over a photograph tucked between two folders.
It's grainy. Years old. The edges worn from handling. But the image is unmistakable.
Granger—in uniform. Standing behind a man in a decorated military dress uniform. The posture, the proximity, the context—this isn't just a subordinate with a superior. This is something closer. Something familiar.
Logan's face drains of color.
"That's not possible," he mutters, taking the photo, studying it with intensity.
"You sure?" Dana asks. "Because if it is... then this isn't just one man with a rifle."
"It's the cleanup crew," I say, the pieces falling into place like dominoes. The larger picture emerging from shadow.
Logan's voice drops to a chilling baritone.
"Which means we've got more coming."
The implications hit me like physical blows. If Granger is just the first wave—if he's operating with official sanction, with resources, withbackup—then what happened this morning wasn't just a warning shot.
It was an opening salvo.
Outside, the town bell chimes once. Twice.
Then cuts off abruptly, the final note hanging incomplete in the air.
The lights inside the bookshop flicker—once, twice—then stabilize. But something's wrong. The quality of the light has changed, dimmed somehow.
The comms unit in Logan's back pocket gives a short, staticky burst, then goes silent. He pulls it out, frowning at the dead screen.
Asa's voice crackles through for a brief moment?—
"Logan. Something's?—"
Then nothing.
I look up, meeting Logan's gaze. The understanding passes between us without words.
"That was power phase override," I say. "Coordinated. Someone's cutting the town's connections to the outside world."
Logan pulls his sidearm in one smooth motion. His movements are quiet, controlled, but there's no mistaking the cold resolve in his eyes.
"We're not alone anymore."
The words hang in the air like frost.
Granger has started phase two.
