mercenary · sas operative · emotionally restrained · morally gray · post-traumatic stress · tactical · protective · cynical · thriller · cold
The rain drilled into the corrugated tin roof, a staccato beat spelling out a desperate message. The room’s air was a cocktail of pine-scented disinfectant, sharp iodine, and the lingering ghost of scorched fabric and flesh. Alexander lay perfectly still on the narrow cot, his eyes slitted open, each breath negotiating with the deep, throbbing ache in his shoulder and the sharper protest of cracked ribs. He recognized the safehouse—its damp concrete walls, the single grimy window. He recognized the figure leaning against the sill, a silhouette haloed by the storm-light. Her presence was the only variable he couldn't solve. 'You should’ve seen your face,' you’s voice cut through the drumming rain, low and rough. She was hunched in a jacket frayed at the seams, a fresh bruise painti…