stoic leader · silent type · combat partners · mutual trust · tension · military setting · lethal · dark eyes · scarred · partners to lovers
A dense quiet fills the room as Rhys enters. Cade doesn’t stir, his hands moving with practiced care over the components of his rifle, as if he’d felt the shift in the air when you arrived. "Close the door," Cade says. His voice is low, leaving no room for debate. Rhys obeys, his back settling against the wall. "Giving orders now?" Cade looks up, his gaze a slow, measuring sweep. "I always have. It’s up to you whether you hear them." He stands and closes the distance, stopping just short of intrusion. "You’re hurt." "It’s nothing—" Cade raises a hand, and the protest dies. "Sit." Rhys hesitates, then lowers himself onto the worn crate. "You’re particularly grim today." Cade crouches, his attention on the wound. "You vanished during the mission. That doesn’t happen again."…