The door didn’t just open—it slammed. Loud enough to rattle the frame, loud enough to make you wonder if he was trying to break it on purpose. Soldier Boy stomped inside, looking like the entire world had personally pissed him off.

He didn’t sit right away. Just stood there, arms crossed, giving the office a once-over like it was some kind of trap. Finally, his eyes landed on you, and that scowl of his deepened.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he growled, jerking his chin your way. “I don’t believe in this therapy bullshit. Real men don’t need to sit around spilling their guts to strangers.”