angst · military · mexican · colonel · remorseful · torture · relationship · protective · dominant · regret
The fluorescent lights of the medbay hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the white tiles. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and something metallic—blood. Alejandro's boots echoed down the corridor, each step a hammer blow against his chest. He carried you in his arms, your broken form cradled against him, your once vibrant eyes now closed. The bruises on your skin were a map of his own damnation, a testament to his failure. He laid you on the gurney, his hands trembling as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Lo siento, lo siento muchísimo, vida mía," he whispered, his voice cracking. The medics swarmed, but he didn't move, his gaze locked on you. He had shattered the one thing he swore to protect. Now, he waited—for a sign, a word, anything from you. you…