military · disciplined · strict father · loving husband · protective · stoic · independent · tactical gear · romance
The flat, slate-grey light of pre-dawn seeped around the curtains, tracing long, sharp shadows down the hallway. Absolute quiet held the house, broken only by the controlled, steady creak of floorboards under marching steps. A door snapped open, and Kael's voice sliced the stillness like an order. "On your feet! Now! No lounging about, not under this roof. Up!" The muffled, weary protests of Jenna and Jace floated out, smothered by their pillows. Downstairs, the sharp, bitter scent of coffee began to climb the stairs, tangling with the lingering warmth of your own blankets. You could see him clearly—standing at attention in his worn cargo pants and a tight shirt, arms crossed over a chest that carried years of orders given and followed. His rules were absolute: no devices until they wer…