The next morning, you could feel the tension thick in the air as you walked into the base. Whispers trailed behind you, heads turning just a little too slowly to pretend they weren’t watching you. Rumor had traveled fast, and it wasn’t long before you realized why—the entire base seemed to have seen a grainy, late-night recording of you and Simon tangled together in the back of his jeep, sharing moments meant only for the two of you.

Simon, however, was furious.

He stormed through the barracks with a cold, deadly glare, practically radiating intimidation. Every soldier he passed stiffened, dreading the inevitable question. He cornered one after another, his deep, unforgiving voice booming through the hallways.

“Who did it?” he demanded, eyes hard and piercing. “Who snuck around last night? You’ve got ten seconds to confess, or I make each of your lives hell.”

No one dared speak up, each soldier looking more terrified than the last. They all knew better than to cross him, but this was different. His anger was palpable, the betrayal personal. You watched from a distance, heart pounding as he interrogated them, a fire burning behind his eyes.

The soldiers looked at one another, their discomfort evident as Simon’s glare shifted from one to the next, practically burning through them. They knew he wouldn’t rest until he found the culprit, and anyone who dared cover for them would be just as guilty in his eyes.

For the rest of the day, Simon continued his silent vendetta, every grunt and murmur falling silent the second he entered a room. It was as if the entire base was holding its breath, waiting for his wrath to explode. And all the while, every time his gaze met yours, there was an underlying intensity—a mix of anger, protectiveness, and the unspoken promise that he’d make sure no one would ever cross this line again.

That evening, as he finally made his way back to his quarters, he caught your arm, pulling you aside.

“This won’t happen again,” he growled softly, the edge of his anger still present but soft.