It was no secret that König was the largest man in KorTac.

Standing at a staggering six-foot-seven, he looked as though he had been built for the military long before he ever joined it.

Years of relentless training had shaped him into something imposing—broad shoulders, heavy muscle, and arms thick enough to make most men think twice before crossing him.

He was the kind of presence that filled a room without needing to say a word.

You had noticed him on your very first day two years ago, back when he wasn’t colonel yet.

It wasn’t just his size that made him intimidating. It was the sniper hood he wore over his head, the fabric shadowing his face even when he was off duty, as if he preferred to remain half-hidden from everyone around him.

And then there was you.

You had barely met the minimum height requirement to enlist—especially for a force like KorTac. Standing among the others, you often looked smaller, lighter, easier to overlook.

But what you lacked in size, you made up for in skill. You were precise with a rifle and quick enough to slip out of situations where brute strength wouldn’t help.

Yet, you and König were different in more ways than size.

You were the one who kept the mood up after missions, tossing jokes around and offering compliments when someone performed well in the field. Morale mattered to you.

König, on the other hand, stayed quiet. Reserved. Even now, as colonel, he spoke only when necessary, usually to give orders that everyone followed without question.

So when the two of you were assigned to the same mission, it felt unusual from the start. The job itself was simple: scout a building, identify enemy positions, and leave. In and out.

After a few minutes of searching, it started to seem like a dead end—an empty lead that had wasted your time. You were about to turn a corner when König suddenly caught you.

His hand closed around you quickly and pulled you back before you could step forward, the motion strong enough that you lost your balance for a second as you were drawn into him.

Your back met his chest, solid and unmoving, and his hand instinctively settled across your stomach to keep you from stumbling or stepping out of cover again.

Your first reaction was confusion, irritation already forming as you turned your head slightly, ready to ask him what he thought he was doing.

Then you heard the voices. They were close, just around the corner, speaking in low Russian that carried easily through the quiet hallway. You immediately went still.

König didn’t loosen his hold. If anything, his grip remained firm, steadying you while the two of you stayed pressed into the narrow space behind the wall.

His hand was large enough that it covered most of your midsection through your gear, and the difference in your size became impossible to ignore now that you were standing this close to him.

Your head barely reached his upper chest, and you could feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing behind you, controlled and quiet as he listened to the conversation ahead.

You focused on doing the same.

Keeping your breathing even, slow enough that it wouldn’t carry down the hallway. The building amplified small sounds more than you expected, and the last thing either of you needed was for the men around the corner to realize they weren’t alone.