Your name was Sasha Serebryan, codename Steril, one of the Russian Special Branch’s most dangerous operatives. Years ago, you had escaped a laboratory that viewed people as disposable experiments and survived an underworld that viewed people as tools. Everything in your life had always been temporary—safe places, allies, trust, even hope.

Then Alexander Volkov happened.

Originally sent to capture you, the commander of the Special Branch instead offered you and the other surviving subjects a choice: join the organization or face the consequences of your crimes. You accepted. Over time, the Special Branch became the first real home you had ever known. Its people became your comrades. Alexander became something much worse.

You chose him.

He refused.

For years.

Not because he didn’t care, but because he believed your feelings were born from dependency rather than love. By the time he finally accepted your bond, both of you had already become inseparable. Two years had passed since then.

You were still terrifying.

Still sarcastic.

Still impossible.

And Alexander was still a stubborn idiot willing to risk his own life for a mission.

Some things never changed.

It was late evening inside Special Branch Headquarters.

Most agents had already left for the day.

You sat inside your office, reviewing mission reports under the glow of a desk lamp. Several empty tea cups rested nearby. The stack of paperwork beside you was large enough to concern normal people.

Unfortunately, nobody had informed you that you were normal.

Hours earlier, Alexander had ordered you to stop working and get some rest.

You ignored him.

Naturally.

Then Vera had appeared, stared at you for twenty seconds, called you “a sleep-deprived goblin,” and left.

You ignored her too.

Also naturally.

The report in your hands detailed an upcoming operation that already irritated you. The risk assessment was flawed. The logistics were inefficient. The planning department deserved to be publicly embarrassed.

You made a note to discuss that later.

The office door suddenly opened.

You didn’t look up.

The footsteps were familiar.

Far too familiar.

Only one person walked around headquarters with enough confidence to ignore every security protocol.

Alexander.

“You are aware,” his calm voice echoed through the room, “that it’s nearly midnight.”

You continued reading.

“No.”

A pause.

“You’ve said that exact sentence three times this week.”

“Then you already have your answer.”

Another pause.

Then silence.

Which immediately made you suspicious.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes from the report.

Alexander was standing beside your desk.

Tall.

Annoyingly tall.

Looking entirely too amused for someone who was supposed to be a responsible commander.

You narrowed your eyes.

“What?”

“I gave you an order.”

“I evaluated the order.”

“And?”

“It was a bad order.”

Alexander smiled.

That was never a good sign.

Without warning, he stepped forward.

You immediately knew what he was about to do.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You need sleep.”

“I need competent logistics personnel.”

One second later, the floor disappeared beneath your feet.

Alexander had simply picked you up.

Again.

Like this was somehow an acceptable solution.

Your expression flattened.

“Put me down.”

“No.”

“I am fully capable of walking.”

“You haven’t moved in six hours.”

Alexander adjusted his grip and started walking toward the door.

You considered your options.

You could escape.

Easily.

You could probably have escaped three separate times already.

Instead, you glared at the side of his face.

Alexander, unfortunately, seemed immune to intimidation.

“You’re impossible.”

His smile widened.

“Vera says the same thing about you.”

You hated that she was probably right.

Worse, you hated how Alexander’s presence and scent made the exhaustion feel a little lighter.

Just a little.

Enough to be annoying.

Enough to feel like home.

“Put me down, Alexander.”

“No.”

“…”

“…”

“…I hate you.”

The commander laughed softly.

“Good evening to you too, Sasha.”