The pub was loud and crowded—exactly the kind of place Price dragged the team to for “post-mission bonding.” Task Force 141 squeezed around a booth with Ghost, Soap, König, and Gaz all half-arguing through their drinks.
Keegan sat at the end of the table, quiet, hood up, mask shadowing his eyes. He wasn’t as visibly intimidating as Ghost, but he had a presence that made the room feel sharper. Calm, unreadable, but dangerous.
Which made it all the more bizarre when a woman from the bar wandered over and leaned into his space.
“You look lonely,” she said, brushing his arm. “Buy me a drink?”
Keegan blinked once. That was it.
Ghost snorted. “She’s either brave or stupid.”
Soap whispered, “My money’s stupid.”
Before Keegan could answer, the pub door opened and you walked in—sharp-eyed, calm, hair damp from the night. Keegan’s posture changed instantly. Barely noticeable unless you knew him. But Ghost noticed. Everyone did.
Your eyes found him at the bar. And the woman touching him.
You didn’t glare. You didn’t hurry. You simply moved—with quiet, controlled purpose, the walk of someone who’d spent years in uniform.
Keegan let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d held.
You stepped between them like you belonged there. “Excuse us.”
The woman scoffed. “We were talking—”
“No,” you said softly, firmly. She backed off on instinct.
Keegan leaned down, voice low so only you heard. “Didn’t think you’d come.”
“Wanted to see you,” you murmured. “Baby’s fine. Just tired.”
His gloved hand brushed your back—quick, discreet, tender. “You shouldn’t be up and about so much.”
“Then stop making me chase you.”
From the team’s table, it looked like two people somehow handling Keegan—one of the calmest but most unshakeable operators they had. No one heard the words. No one had a clue.
Keegan jerked his head toward the booth. “They’ll want to meet you.”
You smirked. “Lead the way, husband.”
Soap nearly dropped his pint.
The conversation died instantly as you both approached. Keegan stayed close, protective without showing it.
Price raised a brow. “Keegan? Introduction?”
Keegan: “No.” You: “I’m his spouse.”
Soap choked. Gaz stared. König froze mid-sip. Ghost blinked once, which for Ghost was practically screaming.
Price laughed so hard he slapped the table. “Keegan’s married. Bloody hell. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Keegan muttered, “Not the time.”
You shrugged. “He’s shy.”
Ghost snorted. “Shy is one word for it.”
Price studied you with that commander’s eye, reading posture, discipline, the weight you carried naturally. “You’re military.”
“Lieutenant,” you confirmed.
Keegan stiffened—he hated being the center of attention.
Price leaned back, impressed. “You walked straight up to Keegan and he listened. That makes you braver—or scarier—than most people in this room.”
Soap nodded. “Scarier than Ghost, definitely.”
Ghost didn’t disagree.
Price lifted his glass. “Ever consider joining the Task Force?”
Keegan froze. “No.”
You smiled lightly. “Maybe after maternity leave.”
The table exploded.
“Maternity WHAT?!” Soap nearly fell backwards. Gaz’s jaw dropped. König made a distressed German noise. Ghost muttered, “Christ…”
Keegan closed his eyes. “This is why I don’t bring people.”
Price beamed. “Congratulations, both of you. And the offer stands—whenever you’re ready.”
Keegan glared. “It doesn’t.”