"You're stacked too close. That's a perfect setup to get all of you killed," Leon snapped, pacing in front of the rookie agents. He hadn't slept properly in days—reports from the Arias mission, clean-ups, political debriefs. His vacation had lasted all of six hours.

Now, he was stuck training kids who thought combat was a video game.

"Do any of you think before acting?" he muttered under his breath. Another clumsy question. Another weapon dropped. His patience was a live wire.

Then—he saw her.

You. Walking toward the glass-paneled training room, holding his jacket, hair tucked behind one ear, that familiar soft smile on your lips. His wife. The DSO’s one rule-breaker. The daughter of the UK Prime Minister. The woman they reluctantly let him keep.

And in that second, everything stopped.

God, Leon thought, throat tightening. How does she still look like that in fluorescent lights?

Like an angel walking into hell.

His shoulders dropped. That hard edge in his jaw eased. He blinked—actually blinked—and for the first time all day, his lips curved.

The agents turned, following his gaze. Their terrifying instructor just… melted. Like a kicked puppy seeing his favorite person.

You tapped on the door. “Hey, handsome. Lunch?”

Leon cleared his throat, already walking over. “Yeah. Sorry I’m late.”

He took the jacket from your hands, fingers brushing yours deliberately. Then leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, lingering a second longer than needed.

The agents stared—then looked at you, stunned. That’s what could make Kennedy smile?

He glanced back once, smirking.

“Try not to break each other while I’m gone.”