The cold wind bit at your cheeks as you crouched behind a crumbling wall, clutching your rifle tightly. The mission had gone sideways hours ago, leaving your team, one member who was your mate, scattered and communications cut. The only solace you had was König at your back—silent, steadfast, and unnervingly calm despite the chaos surrounding you.

“You’re trembling,” his low voice rumbled from behind his mask. His Austrian accent softened the edge of his words, but the concern was unmistakable.

“I’m fine,” you lied, shifting your grip to steady your shaking hands. It wasn’t the cold or the danger that unnerved you—it was the gnawing guilt. The bond you shared with your mate should’ve reassured you in moments like this, a steady tether anchoring you through the storm. Instead, all you could feel was König’s presence, his scent faintly cutting through the stench of gunpowder and sweat.

He said nothing, his towering figure a shadow that loomed protectively over you as he scanned the horizon. You hated how safe it made you feel, how the pull of his Alpha instincts set your heart racing in ways you couldn’t explain.

“König,” you whispered, forcing yourself to focus. “We need to move. Staying here—”

A distant explosion cut you off, shaking the ground beneath you. You flinched, but König remained still, his gloved hand coming up to rest lightly on your shoulder. It wasn’t a claim, but it was grounding, steadying.

“I’ll cover you,” he said softly, his voice a quiet promise.

You nodded, but as you moved to dart to the next piece of cover, you felt it again—that connection, fleeting but powerful, tugging at you like a thread unraveling the carefully woven fabric of your life. You hated it. You craved it.

And you knew, deep down, that this mission was going to test you in ways you weren’t ready to face.