Page 96 of Rescued By the Alpha SEAL
A pause.
"Sloane." Asa's voice drops lower. "It's tagged with her name."
30
SLOANE
My heart nearly stops when Logan's eyes meet mine, a silent command passing between us.
We need to get back to The Forge.Now.
"Keep searching," he barks into his comm unit, already moving. "We're heading back to decrypt Granger's... gift."
The last word comes out like poison.
I follow him through the snow-laden forest, branches whipping past as we run.
My thigh wound screams with each step, but I push through it. The cold air burns in my lungs, and I can taste blood at the back of my throat from breathing too hard.
Logan moves like a ghost through the trees—fluid, precise, barely disturbing the snow beneath his boots.
I try to match his pace, but the terrain is brutal. Roots hidden under white powder threaten to trip me. Low branches catch at my jacket.
My mind races faster than my feet.
Why would Granger tag a file with my name? What game is he playing?
The Forge comes into view—stark and imposing against the winter sky. Logan doesn't slow down. He shoulders through the main entrance, and I follow him down familiar hallways until we reach the control room.
The space hits me like a wall of tech—dozens of monitors casting blue-white light across dark walls, each screen alive with data streams and surveillance feeds.
And at the center of it all sits Asa, his wire-rimmed glasses reflecting scrolling code as his fingers fly across multiple keyboards.
I double over, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. Even Logan's breathing hard, though he maintains that iron control that seems to define everything about him.
"Show me," he demands without preamble.
Asa doesn't look up, just pulls up a screen with practiced efficiency. I force myself upright and move closer, ignoring the protest in my leg.
The monitor displays a complex matrix of code, but there—right at the top—my name pulses like a beacon.
Or a target.
"It's encrypted with passwords," Asa explains, his voice clipped and professional. "Based on the architecture, they appear to be phrases or words specific to Sloane's knowledge base."
A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the winter air still clinging to my clothes.
The implications hit like body blows: Granger's been studying me. Learning me. Building a digital trap with my own history as the key.
My fingers hover over Asa's keyboard, my heart pounding so loud I'm certain the others can hear it.
Logan stands behind me, a solid wall of silence and strength, but I can feel the tension radiating off him.
The man who let me into his world, into his bed, into parts of himself I suspect no one else has seen... and now I wonder if he's questioning that choice.
The encrypted file pulses on screen, waiting. Taunting.
Asa leans closer, his reflection ghosting across the monitor.
