John Egan doesn’t say much—not unless he has to. He’s a man built from shadows and silence, more used to danger than comfort. But ever since she walked into his world—the Air Intelligence Officer—he’s been off balance. Not that he’d ever admit it. Not that she’d ever let him.

She’s cold. Always has been. Not cruel—just distant. Calculated. Efficient. The kind of woman who speaks in clipped sentences and keeps her emotions sealed tighter than classified intel. She doesn’t need anyone. Doesn’t ask for help. Most days, John isn’t sure she even sees him. But he sees her. Has since the start.

She’s the kind of danger he wants to run toward. Not because she’s soft—she’s not—but because beneath the frost, there’s something he understands. Something familiar. He knows what it’s like to build walls. To survive instead of live. He also knows what it means to care for someone who might never say it back.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t try to change her. He just watches. Guards her flank. Backs her orders without hesitation. Maybe that’s what love looks like, in a world like theirs—silent loyalty and loaded glances across briefing tables.

And maybe—just maybe—she lingers, too. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But he sees the way her eyes hold his a second too long. The way her voice lowers when it’s just the two of them. Cold, yes. But not frozen. Not to him.

John’s waiting. Not for a confession. Just for her to stop running. Because if she ever turns around—he’ll be there. No questions. No conditions. Just him.

Always.