Page 81 of Viking

The words hit me like a slap. My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, I can’t speak. Then I rush after him. “A mistake?” I echo, barely above a whisper.

He stops in the hallway, turning toward me, but avoids my eyes, his jaw clenched tight. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have stayed. I shouldn’t have—” He stops himself, his right hand is a fist clenched at his side. “I shouldn’t have let myself use you.”

“Don’t you dare,” I say, my voice trembling with anger. I step closer, forcing him to look at me. “Don’t you dare stand there and act like last night didn’t mean anything.”

“It didn’t,” he snaps, his voice rising. “It was just sex, Lila. Just a way to forget, to feel something other than this—” he claws at his chest— “fucking pit inside me.”

I recoil like he’s slapped me. “You’re lying,” I whisper. “I know you, Logan. I know you wouldn’t say that unless—”

“Unless what?” he interrupts, his eyes flashing. “Unless I’m broken? Guess what, Lila. I’m fucking broken. I’m not your hero. I’m not going to sweep you off your feet and make everything better. I’m a damn mess, and you deserve better than this. Better than me.”

“Stop it,” I plead, tears welling up in my eyes. “Stop trying to push me away because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m fucking lethal, Lila. You don’t want me. I ruin everything I touch, and I’m not going to ruin you.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me!” I shout, the tears spilling over now. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle, or what I want. I chose you, Logan. I chose us.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have,” he says, his voice cold and final. “Because I can’t give you what you want and I sure as hell can’t be what you need.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. I stand there, trembling, as he struggles to tighten his sling, his pain evident in how he moves. His face is hard, unreadable, but his eyes, his eyes, are screaming everything he won’t say.

“You deserve someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved,” he says quietly, his voice cracking just slightly. “Who can actually say the damn words aloud. And that isn’t me.”

“Logan, you do love me—”

He laughs bitterly. “I don’t though. Don’t you get it? I don’t love you.”

I wince.

His eyes betray him. The splintered sorrow streaking across his face. “Goodbye, Lila.” His voice breaks on my name, but he doesn’t look back. He adjusts the strap of his duffle bag on his uninjured shoulder, turns, and walks out the door, leaving me standing there. Shattered.

Over the Pacific Ocean

June 22, 2024

1532

Logan

The drone of the engines fills the belly of the C-130, a low, steady hum that matches the emptiness inside me. I lean back against the hard seat, arms crossed, staring blankly at the bulkhead in front of me. The weight of my gear presses down on me, but it’s nothing compared to the weight in my chest.

“Man, you’ve been quiet as hell since we sat down,” Townsend says, sitting across from me. His tone is casual, but there’s genuine concern underneath. “What’s eating at you?”

I wish I was in my Raptor. Flying solo.

But I’m not. It’s still at the base. Beside Ryan’s.

I don't want to talk. I don’t want to confront all the shit I’m feeling.

I want to shove it into a box and seal it up tight.

I don’t look at him. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Dalton mutters from my other side. He’s flipping through a dog-eared book he brought, but his sharp tone tells me he’s been paying attention. “You’re a fucking mess.”

“Not in the mood, Everett,” I snap, my voice low and warning.

“Yeah, well, too bad,” Dalton retorts, closing the book with a soft thud and setting it on his lap. “We’re stuck on this plane together for hours, and you clearly have something you need to work out.” He pauses like he isn’t going to continue, and then changes his mind. “Losing Carter was awful. I know I’m new to the flight, but Ryan was still my brother. You think that didn’t destroy me too? You get to hurt and fuck does it hurt, but you don’t get to do this self-destructing shit and shut us all out. When we’re in the air, my life is in your hands. How am I supposed to trust you to do your job if your hands are already full?”