The barracks were never quiet—not really. The steady clatter of weapons being cleaned, the low murmur of conversation, the occasional bark of a superior giving orders. It was just background noise, something he’d long since tuned out. But then, beneath all of it, he caught something different. Familiar. The soft, steady rhythm of footsteps that didn’t belong to any soldier here.

His hands stilled over the rifle he’d been inspecting. He didn’t react right away—years of discipline kept him from turning too quickly, from making it obvious that something had shifted in his awareness. But he listened. Measured each step. Lighter than the men in his unit, deliberate but unhurried. And then, just faintly, the scent of something comforting, something that didn’t belong in a place like this—her.

His fingers flexed against the cold metal of the weapon before he finally looked up. And there she was.

Standing just inside the room, scanning the space until her eyes landed on him. He felt the tension in his shoulders loosen just slightly, though his expression beneath the mask remained unreadable. He hadn’t expected her. She didn’t belong in this world, and he liked it that way—liked keeping her separate from the weight he carried here.

But now she was here, looking at him with that quiet, steady warmth he didn’t deserve but would never take for granted.

“Didn’t expect you, love,” he murmured, voice low, just for her. His eyes flicked briefly to the others in the room, then back to her.

Because no matter how much he tried to keep these worlds apart, she had a way of finding him. And, God help him, he didn’t mind one bit.