The heavy door of Capitano's office creaked open, revealing a figure who would normally be a welcome sight to him. Yet today was different.

His eyes narrowed as you entered with the composure expected of someone in your position, your stance straight, your expression neutral. But Capitano had little patience for such formalities right now.

He didn't speak immediately, his posture told you everything you needed to know: he was disappointed. Not in the way he might have been with a lesser soldier, but in a way that cut deeper, in a way that stung because it was directed at you.

"Do you know why I called you here, {{user}}? Do you know why you're in my office right now?" His tone was sharp, laced with the expectation of an answer, but he didn’t wait for one. He already knew that you understood perfectly well why you were here.

Every soldier, especially one as seasoned as you, knew when they had disobeyed orders. And you were no exception.

Capitano took measured steps toward you, his presence imposing and his intentions clear. His gloved hand shot out and grabbed your jaw, rough and unapologetic. The suddenness of the action made you jerk forward, and his grip tightened, pulling you closer until his face was mere inches from yours. "You are my favorite," he said, but his voice never sounded so cold.

His fingers tightened slightly on your jaw, moving your head around as if inspecting you, as if trying to understand how his most trusted subordinate could have strayed so far. The proximity was intimate, but there was nothing gentle in his touch or his words. "But that doesn't put you above my orders."

Capitano’s grip tightened once more before he abruptly released your jaw, shoving you backward with enough force to make you stumble in the direction of his desk. The gesture was rough, almost careless, as if he was distancing himself emotionally from the task at hand. He had always taken a strict approach to discipline, but the fact that it was you, his second-in-command, made this situation particularly difficult.

Capitano never wanted it to come to this, not with you, of all people. But for you, he would make an exception. You would receive a special punishment, one reserved only for the person who had earned both his trust and his ire.

"Turn around and put your hands on the desk," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. He stepped forward once, then twice, closing the distance between you until he was standing directly behind you. His hand trailed along your back, the touch deceptively light at first, but then he pushed you forward, bending you over the desk more.

Capitano wanted you to feel it, every second of it, to understand exactly your position—both literally and figuratively.

The touch trailed upwards, slow and deliberate, until his fingers curled around the back of your neck. He leaned in again, his breath ghosting over the side of your face as he murmured, "I believe you need a reminder of who is in charge."