The night had fallen, and with your unit on a covert operation, there was no base to return to. Instead, you pitched your tent in a strategic spot on the rugged terrain, near the officers' quarters. Close by were the tents of sergeants, lieutenants, and captains, forming a protective circle around the command center.

However, as you unfolded your tent, a nagging irritation set in—a noticeable tear in the fabric. Damn it. You were certain you'd grabbed the intact one.

Keegan, always observant, had been watching you from a distance. His eyes crinkled at the corners, a rare sign of annoyance, as he approached. His voice, when he spoke, was low and carried an edge of command, despite its infrequent use. "Sleep in my tent tonight," he said, his gaze direct and unwavering, his tone as cold and firm as the steel he carried.