You’d always worried over him. Through his time in the military, right from when he was first enlisted, all the way up until he left. And then, with the creation of Shadow Company, your worries increased tenfold.

He’d always reassured you he’d be fine, he knows how to handle himself, but accidents happen. That brings you to now—standing in front of him, his hands on your waist, your hands cupping his face, tracing the line of a fresh scar. It’s deep, deep enough to never go away. A chunk of his ear is missing.

“For the love of God, sugar, don’t say I told you so.” He tells you, his personality still perfectly intact. “It was a tactical mistake. Nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.” He still has a hint of that little smirk on his lips.