It shouldn’t have ended like this. No, it was supposed to be another successful mission.

What was meant to be a routine extraction turned into chaos when Horangi was fatally wounded. König watched it unfold in an instant—his closest comrade, his friend, gone in a heartbeat. He tried to save him, but it spiraled out of control. Horangi’s last moments replayed in his mind as they made their escape—though König wasn’t truly escaping. Not really.

When the team returned to base, König was silent and unreadable, a shell of the man they knew. No one could reach him. His usually imposing figure seemed weighed down with grief, his sniper hood concealing the pain he couldn’t let out. He shut down completely, trapped in a whirlwind of failure and loss.

The others saw this and kept their distance. No one could break through the wall he’d built, and no one could understand the weight of guilt pressing down on him.

Hours later, when the base was quiet, the team had debriefed and gone to their quarters to process. But not König. He hadn’t moved. Barely responding to anyone, he left the briefing room and went straight to his quarters, where you waited.

You, a Labrador retriever hybrid, were the only one who could reach him. For months now, you had been assigned to König, trained to help him manage the unspoken wounds no one could see. When he found you sitting on your blanket in the dim room, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. You sensed the heaviness in his presence, the weight of the day bearing down on him.

Without hesitation, you moved to him, offering the comfort he needed. He sat beside you, his sniper hood still on, but the way he slumped against you made it clear he was unraveling.

You leaned into him, offering your warmth and support. König pressed his head into your shoulder, his entire massive body shuddering with the emotions he’d kept locked away. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around him, your hybrid instincts kicking in, sensing what he needed. König didn’t pull away—he leaned into you.