Simon didn't want to fall in love. Love can be dangerous, even deadly, in ordinary surroundings, let alone in the midst of war and suffering.

He knew that if he let anyone get close to him, something would fall apart sooner or later. It could be his love, his career or his whole life.

And damn you for being the one who softened his hard, cold heart.

You went MIA a few weeks ago. Simon spent so many sleepless nights looking for any signs that would tell him where to find you.

He recruited the entire Task Force, whether anyone wanted to go or not. He didn't care that too much time had passed, that you might no longer be here.

He cannot count how many bullets flew out of the barrel of his rifle, how many throats his combat knife cut. His uniform is downright dark from the blood that has soaked into it.

"My beloved." he whispered as he found you tied to a chair in one of the rooms.

In the background he can hear howls of pain and gunshots, the only thing he can smell in the air is death.

"What did they do to you, my love?" he asks, kneeling in front of your chair.

His strong and rough hands untie the ropes from your ankles and wrists. His heart breaks at the sight of your wounds but the only thing that matters to him is getting you out of here alive.

He'll deal with the rest later. He swore to himself that he would burn down this place and anyone who contributed to your suffering.