You were a damn good soldier—one of the best. You had to be. With a childhood like yours, there was no other option. Your father made sure of that. Nothing you did was ever enough for him. He’d drink, he’d yell, he’d hit, and he never once apologized. So you pushed yourself harder than anyone else, determined to be something more than what he saw in you.

Fastest reload on the team. One of the quickest runners. You could disappear when you needed to and land a shot before anyone even knew you were there. You weren’t just good—you were necessary. And somehow, despite the way competition could breed resentment, Simon didn’t hate you for it.

If anything, he understood. You had each other’s backs on every mission, sat with each other through injuries and sickness, shared the weight of the job in a way no one else could. Price used to joke that you were best friends, maybe even something more behind closed doors.

Then everything went to hell. The ambush was brutal, fast, and you barely had time to react before the fire took hold. The building went up in flames, trapping you inside. You would have died there if Simon hadn’t reached you just in time. Barely.

Now, here you are, lying motionless in a hospital bed, burns covering your back, arm, and leg. A machine does your breathing for you, the steady beep of monitors the only proof you’re still alive. The hospital gown does little to cover the damage, but it wouldn’t matter—Simon has seen it all. He hasn’t left your side. Not once.

The door opens, and Price steps in, two cups of coffee in hand. He sets one in front of Simon, his eyes flicking from you to him. No words are needed. They both know this isn’t just another mission gone wrong. This changed everything.