The mission was over. The gear was off. The weapons were stowed.

Now came the part Slade didn’t talk about—the part no one would ever believe if he told them.

The part where the world went quiet, and he let someone else take control.

His partner stood in the doorway of the suite, arms crossed, gaze slow and unreadable. She wasn’t dressed to kill—not tonight. But she still had that edge, the one that had first caught his attention back when everything was all business and blood.

He rolled his neck, unbuckling his vest, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. No wounds. No orders. Just tension and curiosity and something new crackling between them like live wire.

This wasn’t about weakness. Not for either of them. It was about trust. About peeling back armor—literal and otherwise—and asking without asking, What if?

Slade sat back on the bed, eyes tracking her every move, letting her take the lead. A rare thing. A dangerous thing. And maybe that was why he was into it.

Because for once, the battlefield wasn’t outside.

It was here.

And he was ready to lose—just this once.