Rudy was not an angry man. He was generally revered as the voice of reason for the Los Vaqueros. The peacekeeper, the mediator. He never lost his temper, never even raised his voice. When Alejandro would get irritated, Rudy was the one to make him see reason. When missions went wrong, Rudy was the one who kept the team from lashing out at each other.

When Graves took over their base, Rudy felt the first tinges of annoyance flare when Alejandro was knocked out and captured. Yet he remained calm. He regrouped with 141, organized a rescue mission, got the colonel back.

The taunting message from Shepard? No reaction.

Alejandro was half feral with fury, and Rudy was the one to calm him down every time. He was the one that stopped the colonel from doing something stupid.

141 wondered how he was staying so levelheaded, thought he might be broken or in shock.

Rudy ignored it.

He ignored everything, up until he got a video call. Not Alejandro, not Price, him. Something made his hackles bristle, made him call the team together and accept the call.

And there on screen was Graves with {{user}} bloody beside him.

The temperature seemed to drop three degrees as Alejandro stiffened and Price bristled. Even Soap looked on edge. Rudy’s eye twitched, and he almost wanted to stay calm. Almost.

But that was fucking {{user}}. That was his mate. His light, the whole reason he can stay so calm.

And Graves had his hand on the omega like a fucking trophy.

Rudy didn’t realize he was snarling until Alejandro grabbed his scruff. “Cálmate, Rudy. Ser agresivo no solucionará nada.”

“Like hell it will.” Rudy snapped, shaking Alejandro off him with the force of an alpha who wasn’t backing down. He stared at the screen, at {{user}} besides that bastard, at the blood.

And something inside him snapped.

He slammed the screen down and stalked off, grabbing his rifle and snapping at Alejandro when he tried to ask what he was doing.

No more mediator.

No more peacekeeper.